Resurgent
by thevintagebutterfly
Summary: (After Allegiant) Tobias, former Dauntless member and multi-war survivor, is trying to adjust to his new life. People are not bound my their genetic codes and freedom is abundant. But there are a few who still long for revenge, hiding in the shadows. They are rising, with new knowledge, new technology, and a new power. No one will see it coming, because they only see themselves...
1. Chapter 1

**T****OBIAS**

THE SUN CATCHES the gleam of her eye as she turns her head towards me, her lips spreading just enough to show her teeth. It is not the reserved smile of Abnegation, nor the wide adrenaline rush grin of Dauntless, but of a strong girl, whose fate was not decided by the rules of the factions or the minds of the government who founded them, but by her own decisions, made in the haste of love and selflessness and danger. She steps closer, placing her hands on my chest and letting them slide up to my neck and linger on the ink tattooed there.

"Good morning," I say. She leans in, so that I can smell her scent, a mixture of fresh air and honey, like the color of her hair. I brush my fingers against her cheek, eager for the soft kiss I know is about to come. But before I can press my lips to hers and seal the space between us, she pulls back, her eyes glistening.

"What's wrong?" I say as I realize that the glistening is tears forming.

"I don't want to leave you," she says, and then bites her lip like she immediately regrets saying so.

"You don't have to. You can stay right here, forever, and we can be happy. We can be together and nothing will change that."

I tug at her hand to pull her back towards me, to fill the growing space between us. I am cold and I am not sure whether it is from the lack of her warmth pressing against me or the growing dread I have because I know I won't be able to stop her leaving. She pulls harder and her hand falls from my grasp.

"Tris…"

I can hear the desperation in my voice as the word escapes from my shaking lips. But she just says "I love you" before turning away and disappearing from my view. My vision is blurry with tears and I fall to my knees.

"TRIS!"

But there is no answer, just the orange light filtering in through the window, illuminating the spot where she had stood moments before.

My eyes blink open and I strain to see into the darkness. It must be close to dawn, because thin frames of light are beginning to form in the cracks between the blinds. I roll over and yank my pillow over my head, imaging her once more, the sunlight on her face, that beautiful smile…

_I don't want to leave you._

The last words she spoke to me. Or the last message she had for me. The message she told Caleb to give to me if she didn't survive.

But he shouldn't have had to. She was supposed to live because Caleb was the one who volunteered to breach the Weapons Lab, but instead, she decided in that moment to be true to her Abnegation roots and she took his place. My beautiful, strong, selfless, brave Tris took his place. And because of that, I will never see her again. My last image of her will be from the atrium with the wild plants, contained for the purpose of momentary beauty and relief. Cacophony suspended in time so all the frantic elements can be analyzed and forgiven, in the space between chaos and calm.

_I love you._

The last words she spoke to me. Herself, from her lips.

"I love you, too," I whisper into the pillow. "I'll see you soon."

I can feel the warm tear as it squeezes through my closed eyelid. I try to blink it away, but it is insistent on escaping so I let it fall, one salty symbol of all the love and ache and grief and pain that I've experienced since Tris' death. I have been forcing the numbness down throughout the past two and half years, but you can never really erase all the feelings you've ever felt for somebody.

Christina was right, all those years ago, when I tried to erase my memory and free myself from the pain I knew I would experience for the rest of my life. When she told me that Tris would not have wanted me to forget her and in this moment, although I can still feel the pain of loss, I am glad Christina was there. I don't know where I'd be or _who_ I'd be if I didn't have my memories. _Our_ memories.

And I'm glad I didn't allow myself to momentarily become the babbling idiot Peter was after the serum took effect. For days, he walked around patting people on the head and telling them "good job" when they said his name, like he was congratulating himself on even remembering he was the one they were addressing.

I push away the memories and drag myself out of bed, despite the early hour. Today is when I travel with Christina, Zeke, and Amar to the fringe to pick up those who volunteered to come to the city. Every Saturday, the company Christina works for known as the R.I.O.A., or Relocation Institution for Opportunity and Advancement, sends a vehicle down to the fringe to collect any one who has decided to transfer to the city. Usually a representative from the office, in this case Christina, and a few policeman, more for protection than force, make the journey. They made an exception for me to come along because I'm supposed to be learning more about what the "outside" situation is and how we, as the government of Chicago, can improve the lives of others and political stuff like that, but I really spoke up because I wanted a chance to spend some time with my friends again.

It's been so long since I had company that I enjoyed; Evelyn moved out of my apartment two weeks ago to join the farmers in the outer city limits. She liked the idea of spending her days peacefully plucking apples or tending to the soil or making strawberry jam. Something about protecting the fruit on our trees is one step towards protecting the innocence of our minds.

But I have a feeling that a large part of it had to do with the Director of the Farming Corporation, Abraham. He was part of Jack Kang's support staff, the former Candor representative. Some of the Bureau members call him "Honest Abe", which always cracks them up, but frankly I don't get it.

I grab a muffin and open the door to the balcony. A rush of fresh air presses against my face and I close my eyes, letting the gentle breeze soothe me. I absentmindedly pick out the blueberries and nibble on them as I watch the traffic down by the river.

The Bureau has turned the old marshlands into something of extreme beauty. There are people walking up and down the bank, children playing in the shallows, not burdened with the knowledge of what this place used to be.

Small boats drift lazily at the river's center, some fishing, others enjoying the steady pulse of the waves as they gently shove the sides and then retreat. The sun reflects off the water so it seems as though the shimmering light is emanating from the river itself. The breeze carries the humidity in the surrounding air, curling around my face, between my fingers, over my bare toes and across my neck.

Tris would have loved it here.

I leave my half eaten breakfast on the kitchen counter and change quickly into my clothes for the day: an unintimidating black t-shirt and blue jeans. My hair sticks up at random angles and I comb it down so I look at least somewhat professional. After my moment of weakness when I cut my hair, ready to begin a new life, I decided to leave it long because that's how I kept it when Tris and I had escaped Chicago, ready to start fresh without the limitations of faction values. It's a symbol of who I was then.

Before I had met Tris, it was difficult to keep my feelings under control. If something bothered me, I became determined to find a solution, whether it be controlling the fears in my fear landscape, or planning a way to get back at my father for everything he did wrong to Evelyn and I.

I became obsessive.

But when she was around me, I could see reason instead of incessant insanity. Her voice soothed the blood that boiled in my veins; her touch calmed my electrified nerves. The way I keep my hair is the only way I have to preserve the change I underwent when I met her.

The only way to keep me sane.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHRISTINA **

WHEN I WALK into the office, Zeke and Amar are already there. The look on their faces is one I haven't seen in awhile: happiness.

"Are you guys ready?"

Zeke jumps down from the table he was perched on and joins me by the door.

"We've been looking forward to this day since you invited us to come with you," he says.

"So last week," adds Amar, before crossing the room, a smile on his face.

Both of them wear dark uniforms, tight-fitting so as not to restrict movement, and padded in vital areas, like over the heart and stomach. The sleeves stop at their shoulders, revealing the tattoos along their arms. Across their chests are straps that hold the long guns slung across their backs. Zeke wears this giddy smile that looks like he can't wait to travel into the fringe, which is filled with bloodthirsty GD rebels, looking for any city or Bureau victim to sacrifice in hopes that we'll retaliate and start the war they've always wanted.

It's the smile of anticipation and adrenaline from danger.

A smile that is in every way like the one Uriah wore.

My chest tightens.

But I push the thought aside because I know there is nothing I can do for Uriah now except live how he would have wanted us to live.

Dauntless style.

Behind me, I hear the door shut and turn to see Tobias walking in, a blank look on his face. He must have had another dream about her…

"Hey, Best Friend," I say in an effort to break his mood, and sling my arm over his shoulder. He's a bit taller than me, though, so I can only get my arm about halfway up before it sticks awkwardly out from behind his neck, not quite long enough to reach his opposite shoulder.

"She did not just…" Zeke gasps, his mouth dropping in mock surprise. "But I thought _we_ were best friends!"

He gives a hurt look to Tobias who says, "Don't worry, you can have my other shoulder."

He flashes a grin at me and I punch him in the arm, scowling.

"Come on, or the city transfers will have to _walk_ here."

I lead the way out of the office and down the stairs until we reach a tall, silver door, locked with a passcode. I punch in the seven-digit code and step back. As the door rises, I hear a low whistle behind me.

"We're taking _that_?" asks Zeke in disbelief.

The black vehicle is sleek and square. The windows on either side are tinted and a chrome edging lines the top. Four massive tires sit under the car, giving the impression of a jungle cat ready to spring. Engraved along the driver's side door is a cursive word in gold.

Panther.

"Watch this," I say, taking a remote out of my pocket. I press the green button marked with a 'T' and watch as the boys look like they are going to faint on the spot. The tires move out and turn facedown, transforming from within into elongated legs that raise the _Panther_ twenty feet above the ground.

"How do you expect me to get in it now?" questions Amar. His eyes are stretched wide.

"Why did you do that?" Tobias asks breathlessly.

"We'll need to cross the river to get out of the city, now."

"Is there not a bridge or anything?" says Zeke, his eyebrows raised at me like I hadn't already thought of the idea.

"Of course," I answer. I glance at him over my shoulder and smile mischievously. "But that's not as fun."

I grab a gun off the rack by the door and toss it to Tobias. He flinches, but catches it.

"Not quite as smooth as you used to be, huh Mr. Politician?" I joke.

He looks uncomfortable, but says nothing. I grab a gun for myself and lower the _Panther_ back to the ground. We pile in, Tobias and I in front, and Zeke and Amar in back. On the control panel, there is a button to open the back door. As the door rises, sunlight streams in and reflects off the chrome lining.

"Ah, geez," says Zeke, putting his hand up to shield his eyes.

"Better get used to it; there's going to be a lot of it where we're going."

With that, I slam my foot on the accelerator. My head jerks back and I let out a whoop of laughter. It's been so long since I've enjoyed myself like this.

Too long.

Within minutes, we've reached the river and I pause before transforming the vehicle to cross.

I turn to Tobias. "Are you ready for this?"

He just looks forward and nods his head. I can see that his jaw is clenched.

I press the green button again, and the _Panther _transforms; it's a smooth ride to the top.

"No way," says Zeke in dismay. "I can see my house from here!"

He presses his face against the glass and stares out across the city. "Hey Christina, I think I see your mom—whoa!"

His "I Spy" game is cut short as I drive the car into the river. Zeke's forehead slams into the window and out of the corner of my eye, I can see Tobias crack a smile, but as we take the second step, his composure hardens and he tightens his grip on the armrest. This is the first time that I've driven this into the river. In fact, it's the first time I've driven one at all…

After the first unsteady steps, I begin to get the hang of it. The mud sucks the metal feet into the bottom of the river, but the strength behind the machine pulls them back out. I figure out that if I maneuver one leg forward while trying to unstick the other one, the journey across becomes much easier. However, it's still a bumpy ride.

"Are you sure," says Amar through gritted teeth, "that you know exactly…what you are doing?"

"I don't think you want me to answer that."

I hear a low groan and I can't be sure if it comes from Amar or Tobias.

After what seems like hours, but in reality is only a few minutes, we come out of the water on the opposite bank.

After a moment, Zeke lets out a hysterical laugh and says "Guys, that was so much fun! I'm totally up for doing—Amar? Are you feeling alright?"

I look in the back seat and see that his face is a yellowish green.

"Down, maybe?" he croaks.

"Hey, no puking on the seats. I'm only renting this," I say.

"I didn't know you were afraid of heights, too, Amar," jokes Zeke.

"I'm not. Motion sickness," he moans in response.

"You're afraid of motion sickness?" I can hear the teasing tone in Zeke's voice.

Despite Amar's obvious queasiness, he manages to land a solid punch to Zeke's arm that shuts him up for the ride down.

As we drive the rest of the way to the gate, the car is oddly silent. We enjoy the view as we drive past rows of corn and wheat fields, people wearing Amity red, as well as Erudite blue, Candor white and Abnegation gray. There are greens and purples and oranges among the colors as well, although I don't spot many with the Dauntless black. Then again, I wouldn't be too keen on wearing black either in this heat. The farmers stop to wave at us and we wave back, although I know they can't see us through the tinted windows.

I love this world.

It's certainly different: there aren't any definite rules or tests that tell you who you're supposed to be, or special families created by the bond that comes with going through the same initiation, facing the same difficulties and having the same talents. But it is a world where none of that matters, where everyone is a family and bonds are created because of differences and experiences and love.

A world where I can finally figure out who _I_ am.

We're passing a series of small buildings in the middle of the farm district when Tobias asks if we can stop for a moment. I pull the car over and he gets out.

I notice that he leaves his gun on the seat.

He approaches a group of people and says something. A tall woman with curly black hair and dark skin turns towards him. Her eyes are dark, but her smile is kind.

Evelyn.

Tobias greets her with a hug. She laughs at something he says and then gestures at someone in the group. He shakes the man's hand and gives his mother another hug before heading back to the car. When he gets in, I can tell that some of the stress from the ride has eased and he seems to have at least momentarily forgotten whatever was bothering him this morning.

"Who was that man?" I ask as we continue on down the road. "The one with the dark hair and blue shirt?"

"Abraham Stellos, Director of the Farming Corporation."

The name sounds familiar to me, but I can't recall where I've heard it before.

"Hey, wasn't he on Jack Kang's support staff? Back before all this," Zeke gestures to the land outside, "happened?"

"Yeah."

Of course, that's why the name sounds familiar. He's from my ex-faction. Or rather my ex-ex-faction.

We reach the gate an hour and a half later and drive straight through. There are no guards blocking the gate anymore, preventing people from going in or out, just protectors of the city, making sure no GD rebels try to blow up the fence or anything.

It's almost dusk and Zeke is snoring in the back. I guess the day's earlier adventures were too much for him. Amar is listening to music, his headphones in, and Tobias is staring out the window.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" I break the silence.

Outside the windows, vast stretches of broken buildings cover the land as far as I can see, but years of abandonment have allowed vines and wildflowers to grow, turning the ruins into a sort of beautiful graveyard. They are the memories of what was good and the chaos that destroyed it, and then the hope that grows, seeking to put the past behind us and start anew.

"The evening was her favorite time of day. She said that it was the time of day when any mistakes could still be mended, yet you could see the adventures of tomorrow."

I can see why. As the sun sinks into the horizon, it touches all the petals and illuminates every sand crystal blown up into the crevices of fallen pillars and crumpled mailboxes. The wasteland is held briefly in a golden grasp before the night falls and dark skies push the warm glow out of sight.

We fall into silence again.

It's still a few hours until we reach our stop for the night. The pick-up points become farther and farter away as those deeper in the fringe learn about the city, because those who live close by have already been transferred. I replay the events from earlier in my head. The crossing of the river, Amar's motion sickness, Zeke's optimistic attitude, Tobias' meeting with Evelyn. And Abraham Stellos. I remember Zeke mentioning how he was on Jack's support staff.

Yet the name pricks at the back of my mind and as the night deepens, I can't shake the nagging feeling in my stomach.


	3. Chapter 3

**T****OBIAS**

CHRISTINA STOPS THE car outside of a small building, surrounded by huge oak trees. Most of the area outside the city is deserted and dry, so we must be farther into the fringe than I've ever been before. The pathway leading to the door is dimly lit by two streetlamps, one of which is on the verge of life and death.

I'm the first to get out of the car. I grab my gun from the seat and slam the door. The sound resonates through the trees and I flinch, aiming the gun into the shadows. It feels strange in my fingers—I haven't held a gun in months. I gave up the use of force to start using my words, but despite how long it's been, I know that I could hit the knot on that tree at the edge of the circle of light—about fifty feet away—without blinking an eye.

It's not just something you can erase from your mind.

Nothing stirs from the trees, so I lower the weapon and turn back to the group. Christina leads the way down the stone path and to the wooden door. The frame is rotting so the door sags a little and there's no handle. She pushes it open with her shoulder, her gun positioned in front of her. I do the same, followed by Amar and Zeke. Inside, it is complete darkness. I don't know how Christina knows where we're going, but I can hear her stepping confidently around the room.

"Wait," calls out Amar. "Just come this way."

"Can't…" someone croaks. It must be Zeke, but his voice is tight and small.

"I've got a flashlight," I say, reaching for my backpack. I find it in the side pocket and flip the switch. A harsh yellow light illuminates Amar, with his hand outstretched in Zeke's direction and Zeke, his eyes wide, staring at nothing. For as long as I can remember, Zeke's been afraid of the dark, because he didn't like not knowing what he might be facing, what could be waiting in the shadows to take him by surprise.

After a moment he relaxes and comes closer, taking the flashlight from me. We continue on, crossing the room, which is filled with old lamps and chairs and bookshelves whose books haven't been opened in ages, their bindings cracked and dusty. At the far end is another wooden door, this one in much better shape than the first one. When I get closer, I can see why. From the glow of the flashlight, I notice silver hinges holding the door to the frame and when I run my fingers over the wood, it's not the rough texture of sanded bark that I feel, but rather the cool smoothness of steel.

"Wow, that is some serious detail," remarks Amar, touching his fingertips to the door gingerly, like he's testing to see if it's really even there.

Christina reaches for her neck and grabs a thin chain I hadn't noticed before. On it is a miniature key, simple and black. She inserts it into a small hole on the door and I hear an almost inaudible click. She replaces the key and leads us silently through to the other side. A flight of stairs leads straight down to another door, this one silver, not trying to hide its true strength. Beyond it is a brightly lit hallway, people flocking up and down, with more doors lining the walls.

"A secret entrance," explains Christina. "No GD rebel would think to come searching for a Bureau entrance in an old shack."

"But what about the car?" asks Amar. "It's not exactly a rusty old truck."

"Already taken care of," she replies, gesturing to one of the doors on our left. Through a window, I can see the _Panther_ sitting just like we left it, but inside this high-tech garage.

"I parked it on a panel which lowered it to this room, and which will raise it again tomorrow so we can reach our destination. But right now, it's time for some dinner. And then some sleep."

I nod and we head through the throng of people until the crowd thins. I can smell the food before I see it and my mouth waters. I haven't eaten since the muffin this morning, and by the sounds of Zeke's stomach he hasn't had much, either.

"Sorry," he mumbles, but I just laugh.

We enter through a set of tall double doors. The huge room is filled with long tables running the length of the room, all of which have platters piled high with burgers, sandwiches, fried chicken, rolls, and corn on the cob. In the some of the silver basins sit mashed potatoes, soup, fried rice and spaghetti.

"Is this even real?" asks Zeke.

He's right; the copious amounts of food remind me of a Dauntless initiation feast.

But one hundred and ten percent better.

Without hesitation all four of us run to the nearest table and drag helpless pizza slices, garlic potatoes and macaroni salad onto our plates. Amar isn't even halfway though his burger before I go back for seconds. When we've stuffed ourselves until I think the only logical explanation for why we haven't burst yet is delayed reaction, people in uniforms come to clear the plates.

"Well, that was…what would you call that?" Zeke nudges Amar, who looks at him contentedly.

"Beautiful."

"Yes, it was very…_beautiful._"

I move my chair to rise, but Christina holds me back by my arm.

"Wait! Or you're going to miss the best part." She smiles and I sit, unsure of what's coming next. When I look up in the direction that the food left in, I understand why Christina had not eaten as much as she could.

Dessert.

And by the looks of it, more delicious desserts than all the chocolate cake in the world.

When they set the final course down in front of us, I hear someone groan. There's carrot cake, Tiramisu, lemon meringue pie, chocolate pudding, éclairs, red velvet cookies, and triple chocolate cake. But this time I leave the chocolate cake and take a slice of the pie. The light cream on top doesn't look too filling and I've never tried it before. The tangy lemon flavor mixes with the sweet airy taste of the meringue and I close my eyes for a moment, savoring the delectable combination.

We finish with our desserts and head out of the room. Christina leads us down a hallway and down a flight of stairs. At the bottom, we turn right into another hallway, this one with white tiles and industrial lighting. Since we're the only ones here, I can hear the buzzing as the lights pass the electricity.

It's an eerie sort of quiet, now, and I can't help but remember the long twisting hallways of Erudite headquarters, and how one wrong move could lead you to a trap.

I'm so deep in my own memories that when a girl passes by on my left, I don't even notice her and accidentally knock her shoulder.

"Sorry," I say, extending my hand to steady her. "Are you all right?" I know how strong I can be without even trying.

Her face is familiar. Brown hair, thin frame.

"Cara! What are you doing here?" asks Zeke, coming up behind me.

She looks at him, panic in her eyes, and then back at me.

"Umm…nothing." She hesitates and then avoids my bewildered gaze, shoving past our group to the end of the hallway and around the corner. I listen until her footsteps fade.

"What was _that_ all about?" Christina breaks the silence.

"I don't have any idea," I answer.

Cara was fine the last time I saw her, five weeks ago at Tris' funeral. There was nothing that I knew of which would bother her, unless she was still grieving about Will's death. I think about Cara the rest of the way to our sleeping quarters for the night. It's not just her actions that bother me; there was something about her face, like she didn't recognize any of us.

Had she used the memory serum?

Or had someone used it on her?

The bed Christina shows me is plain, but comfortable. I fall asleep without trouble, still in my clothes from the day. When I wake, I hear the rustle of someone getting ready next to me. I blink sleep out of my eyes and see Amar putting on his shoes.

"Hey, sleepy, time to get ready. It's an early start today."

I groan and roll back over, pulling the blankets up to keep out the light. A few minutes later, something large lands on my bed, squashing the air out of me. I hear Zeke's laughter and peek from behind the covers. His face is inches from mine.

"Get off of me," I grunt. "It's not your business whether I sleep in or not."

"Maybe, but it becomes my business when you keep me from getting breakfast."

I shove him hard and he rolls off the bed, landing on his feet. Reluctantly, I sit up. There is a stack of clothes on the end of the bed, ruffled from where Zeke landed on them. There's a bathroom just outside the room that Christina told us about last night. I take a quick shower to wake up and change into the clothes they brought for me. It's a gray sweater and jeans.

"It's practically summer," I say, as I enter the room. "Won't this be a bit warm for the weather?"

Christina comes out from behind the wall divider that separated us boys and her while we slept.

"It's chilly out today," she replies. "The air around here is…different…because of Bureau experiments. They keep trying to see if they can change the temperature outside so they can make winters less harsh and summers not so dry. And I guess they've done _something_ because… it's snowing."

I notice that Zeke and Amar have bulky jackets to put on over their police uniforms and Christina has on earmuffs and gloves. Not only have we changed the way we live, but now we're altering the seasons, as well. I never fully trusted the Bureau after what happened, with all the genetically pure stuff and how they tried to hide the past from everybody, not caring about who's lives were lost, as long as it was all in the name of progress. Christina says they've changed since we altered their memories, which I wasn't totally on board for either, so I'm willing to give them the benefit of a doubt.

But one wrong move is all I need to change my mind.

We eat breakfast and head back out the way we came in last night. At the top of the stairs, I can feel the cooler air. When we get to the front door, it takes both Amar and I to shove against it and move the snow that piled up overnight. When it finally gives, I bring my hand up to shield my eyes as the sudden light rushes in. White covers everything, from the clearing where we stood last night, to the lampposts, to the trees, their branches dipping slightly from the weight. The _Panther_ looks like it hasn't moved. The only indication that it hasn't been sitting there all night is the lack of snow on its black rooftop.

We trudge trough the drifts and pile in. The car drives through with ease; it's large tires crunching snow beneath them. We twist and turn until I can see the main road again, and leave the trees behind. Ahead of us is nothing but white. It looks like the sky has fallen and the ground is covered with clouds.

Frost gathers on our windows and I'm thankful for the sweater now instead of the thin t-shirt I wore yesterday.

After about thirty minutes, I can see small dots of what I assume are buildings. The first time I went to the fringe, I was with Nita, believing that I was meeting GD rebels for a good cause. A cause I stood for because I was damaged.

But now I know that my genes do not define who I am.

Only I can do that.

Within ten minutes we've reached the edge of the small town. Bushes grow up against some of the buildings and trees are unevenly spaced throughout streets. This part of the fringe is more fertile than most, I guess because the Bureau experiments have caused it to rain, even in the dry seasons. There's nobody out, probably because of the weather.

Christina pulls up to the front of a brick building with a faded green door. A tall extension on the rooftop bulges in and out, the curves becoming smaller as it goes up, finally ending in a point. On either side of the door are colorful windows. The early morning light shines through them, so the glass looks like it's glowing. The different shades create pictures, some of people kneeling over a small bed and another of a bright yellow star, faces turned up in reverence.

We get out and as we walk towards the building, my feet fall into other footprints.

Someone is already here.

At the front, Amar pounds the large knocker against the peeling paint, and stands back. After a moment, someone opens the door: an older man with withering gray hair and black robes. His face looks like it has seen compassion, but there's something in his eyes that suggest he is feeling something other than kindness at the moment.

His eyes dart from Christina to Amar to me.

"We're here for the city transfers," says Christina gently, as if the older man isn't completely aware.

But I can tell he is very, very aware.

"Can we come in?" she asks after a moment.

But before he can say anything, a scratched voice replies. "Please, enter."

The man at the door trembles and mouths the word "run".

I'm about to take his advice when a loud bang sounds and he falls trough the crack of the door, landing facedown in the snow at my feet.

As I watch in horror, dark red stains the innocent white surrounding him. The door opens fully to reveal a tall man with a scraggly beard and a few missing teeth. His clothes are torn and his knuckles are calloused and bruised. In his hands, pointed at the four of us, is a gun.

"Please, enter." He gestures to the space behind him, farther into the room, but keeping the gun trained on us.

A warning.

The look in the old man's eyes was a warning.


	4. Chapter 4

**ZEKE**

INSIDE THE CHURCH, there are more men, all unkempt and terrifying like the fellow who so graciously welcomed us in. Up against the side wall, half hidden in shadow, are a dozen or so people. The oldest look to be no more than twenty.

My guess is they're the city transfers we were sent to pick up.

Most of the older generation isn't as open to change as the youth, who still have hope invested in this world. They look scared, but not panicked. It seems as though many have been in situations like these before, and those that aren't are being comforted by the experienced.

The men all have guns, so it's not going to be easy to break out of here. My gun is slung across my back, as is Amar's, so I can only guess they'll be confiscating them soon. Four's gun is hidden in his waistband, but a simple pat down will relieve him of his weapon, too.

The only hope we have is Christina, who may pass as not having a weapon because she works in an office, but I know that she really hides her gun and knife in her boots.

I try to sneak a glance at her, but it's hard, with the cold barrel pressed against my temple. Finally I catch her eye and flick my eyes down at her boots, and she nods.

My guard grabs my arms and yanks them behind my back.

"Hey now," I say, "it took me a long time to build up these arms, don't go ripping them off."

The guard just snorts at me and pulls harder.

I grit my teeth, because although I am strong, this dude is much stronger and I don't want him to know the pain he is inflicting. Another bulky man comes over and takes the gun from my back, like I knew they would. He turns it over in his hands and smiles.

"Very nice," he says, with a weird sound to it, like his words would be deep and scary even if they didn't come from _his_ mouth.

"Vy don't vee have some of zese?" he asks a henchman. His words are hard to understand, and I wonder if it is because he came from the fringe and lived much of his life on the streets.

Although I doubt all that hard malice and lack of mercy was bred on the streets of the fringe.

"Oh, vell now vee do." His smile is the worst of all. It curls over his face, revealing brown, broken teeth.

More soldiers take Amar and Tobias' guns, and search Christina.

They find nothing.

They throw her down with the rest of the captured, and she cries out. As the men take their eyes off her, though, she rapidly crawls towards one of the older boys, and whispers something in his ear. The man who took my gun turns toward her and she grasps her leg dramatically, visibly shaking with fear. I think she might even be crying a little.

Man, I wish I had that kind of talent.

He doesn't catch on to her charade, and begins talking to his men in whispers that I can't hear. For the first time, I notice an intricate skull tattooed on his left thigh.

How did they get here? Okay, they probably walked through the door. But _why _did they come? Was it for us, or for the city transfers? The poor minister at the door was held at gunpoint when we knocked, which means that they must have known we were coming.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a slight shift of movement among the crowd along the wall.

"Quiet!" skull-man yells, silencing their whispers.

But they soon start again, softer so he won't hear. Suddenly, a small child leaps from the wall and runs out of the room, down the hall.

"Hey!" somebody shouts, and two men chase after him. In the momentary confusion, another child jumps from her place and takes off down the aisle, ducking through a door behind the stage.

"Dammit, we've got a bunch of rebels on our hands," skull-man mutters. Another pair of guys rushes off in her direction.

I chuckle at the thought that one grown man isn't enough to contain a child, but immediately regret it when my guard gives me a sharp smack on the back of my head.

"Hey—" I begin, but I'm cut short when Christina springs on the nearest soldier, her knife in hand, and slices his arm. He clutches it, screaming, and she knees him in the gut. He doubles over, and she spins, landing a solid kick to her next opponent, the man who killed the minister.

I see my chance, and slam my head back into the jaw of the guy who holds my arms. He releases me and I aim my next punch at skull-man, who is still holding my gun. All around me, chaos erupts. Tobias is outfighting a soldier on my right. I see his gun on the floor next to me and prepare to toss it to him.

"Four!"

He glances at me and yells and "No, I'm done fighting with guns!"

_Seriously?_

But I don't have time to think what an idiotic time it is to become so vehement on the subject because skull-man has recovered, although his nose hasn't. He lunges at me and I shoot him in the leg. His body falls, landing with a solid thud on the wooden floor. I realize that I haven't seen Amar yet when I notice that he is leading the children across the room and out the front door. There are still three men left, but they're pre-occupied with Christina, Tobias and I to stop the escape attempt.

I aim my gun at the next soldier, who is sneaking up behind Four, when something hits the back of my knee hard. I cry out, and fall, dropping the gun.

It slides out of my reach.

I hear a loud bang and look up, praying that it wasn't a gunshot aimed at Tobias. But instead I see the man fall down, leaving Tobias untouched. I swing my head around to see who fired the shot.

Their hands are still curled around the weapon; feet spread just enough to maintain perfect balance. Their chin is titled slightly up, shoulders stiff and eyes narrowed. Everything about the stance is Dauntless-taught.

Because that is how they learned.

The boy standing in the doorway is Peter.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHRISTINA**

"WHAT THE HELL are you doing here?" I say.

"Let's see, probably rescuing you," Peter replies. He still hasn't lost that smirk. I know I should be thankful, but I can't help but be a little irritated that we even _needed _rescuing.

Which we didn't.

"Now's not the time to hold grudges about things he doesn't remember, Christina," says Tobias.

The man he was in combat with lies on the floor, unconscious.

"We need to get the transfers out of here before the soldiers come back."

As much as I don't want him to be, he's right.

I shove my knife back into my shoe and get ready to follow Amar out the door with the transfers when I notice someone is missing.

"Where's Zeke?" I ask, looking around.

Then I see him.

The leader with the skull tattoo has him by the arm, dragging him across the floor. A bullet wound in his leg slows him down, but not enough to keep him from pulling Zeke's body behind him.

Zeke's eyes are closed and blood trickles out of a cut on his forehead.

"ZEKE!" yells Tobias.

Without hesitating, he grabs the gun nearest him from the floor and aims, hitting the leader in the chest. He falls to the floor with a thud and I don't know if he's dead or just stunned, but I don't take the time to figure it out. Tobias and I rush over to Zeke's unmoving body and carry him between the two of us.

Outside, I'm heaving from the recent combat and carrying half of Zeke's body weight. Amar has most of the transfers loaded up into the back of the vehicle.

"What about those two kids who caused the diversion?" Tobias asks hastily.

At that moment, the girl and boy run around from the side of the building, their nimble legs carrying them swiftly over the snow-covered lawn.

"Back entrance," one of the older kids pipes up. He looks to be about nineteen, his hair grown out so that it hangs in front of his eyes, which are a dark green. He stands next to Amar, helping the younger kids to climb into the back seat.

I don't know how long we have until those four men double back and notice we've all left. They are probably running through the halls right now, seeing all the injured or dead bodies of their fellow soldiers, rage coursing through their veins, picking up the guns strewn across the hall…

"We've got to get out of here," Tobias urges, breaking my trance.

We climb into the cab, laying Zeke down on the back seat. His breaths are ragged and short. The older boy climbs in back with the rest of the transfers and Amar closes the door behind him. He sits next to Zeke in the backseat, his face twisted with grief. I slam my foot on the accelerator and we jerk forward.

Within minutes, I notice two motorcycles in the distance. I'd bet my favorite knife that they're not just some people taking a leisurely drive.

I check the side mirror again, and they've taken the shape of two bulky men, with leather jackets and guns as long as their upper half. I talk into a speaker that connects to the back, which is separated from us up front by a solid, steel wall.

"Everybody, hold on!"

I flip a black switch on the dashboard, and hope for the best.

A distant roaring sound begins to echo in my ears, gradually becoming louder. A few seconds later, the gravelly bumps trembling throughout the car cease, and all I can hear are propellers cutting through the air and the rush of the wind over the car frame.

"WHY?" screams Tobias above the thunderous sound.

I look at him and his face is Candor white, his knuckles clenched so that they are the dominant feature on his hands and his eyes are squeezed shut. We're free from the danger now, high above the ground and heading back towards R.I.O.A. headquarters.

I break into a laugh.

"WHAT THE HELL, CHRISTINA?"

All I can do is laugh harder. It's difficult to take him seriously when his tough-guy composure weakens to that of a small child.

"I'm sorry," I say in between giggles. "I know you…don't like heights."

"Just try and open your eyes. The first step to overcoming your fears is to first let go of the notion that the fear is yours and not just a conception someone else led you to believe," Amar adds quietly.

"Very poetic," I joke. "Who did you get that one from?"

He hesitates. "Tris, actually…"

I feel the familiar pang in my chest and Tobias' jaw stiffens, his hands squeezing impossibly tighter.

I don't want to last thing hanging in the silence to be about Tris, so I say, "C'mon, it's not going to get any easier."

Tobias doesn't move at first, but after the idea circulates in his mind for about fifteen minutes, I can tell he is forcing himself to relax. His fingers slide down the armrests, and his eyes go from shut to squinted. He looks out the window, and over the empty land, decorated only with the crumbled bricks of a war long forgotten. His face does not retain its color, but I notice the curious 'Tobias' overcoming the tenacious 'Four' within him.

We sit, enjoying the view, Tobias as much as he can without having a panic attack. The pound of the propellers drones in the background, leaving just our breathing to fill the empty air.

We're only about five minutes outside the city when it gets noticeably quieter. There's a shuffling in the back seat.

"He's stopped breathing," says Amar in disbelief.

I'd almost forgotten about Zeke.

But now's he's stopped breathing.

I have to get us on the ground and to the hospital. There's no time to figure out the best landing method, so I take control of the wheel and flip the switch again. The propeller immediately shuts off and the vehicle is oddly still before gravity takes hold and we begin to fall.

Oh, god, what did I do?

I turn the flight mode on again, but it will need time to start up and in the time being, we're plummeting down to earth.

"Christina, hold the vehicle steady! Try to keep us in the air as long as possible!" instructs Tobias.

Yeah, right. Let me just wiggle these controls and keep us afloat. But I do as he says, veering us in a zig zag pattern to avoid accelerating to maximum speeds. I don't know how he keeps his head in all this chaos, but I'm glad someone can. My teeth are clenched in concentration and Amar is muttering to himself, his eyes closed to reality.

Tobias begins to press buttons all over the dashboard, some of which I didn't even notice until now. He turns the flight mode off again because it's not doing anything to help us. Levers shift, lights blink and alarms sound.

I can see the shapes of buildings, now: the Merciless Mart, the Ferris wheel, the Hancock building. Tobias continues to tap out a pattern that will hopefully save our lives.

Finally a sudden, sharp tug momentarily halts our downward plunge.

A parachute.

But with the extra weight in the car, we aren't descending slow enough to prevent ourselves from crash landing.

"Hold down the gas. We'll hit the ground at a forward momentum, instead of a solid one." Tobias closes his eyes again, but not in fear this time.

Like he his saying his goodbyes.

My foot subconsciously presses to the floor, and I hear the wheels spin in the empty air.

The ground is only one hundred feet away, now.

Fifty.

Twenty.

Ten.

My teeth are knocked against each other one moment, my head pulled back against the seat in the next. The car rocks and falls heavy onto four tires again, still surging along the ground. We've landed in the fields outside the city.

I can see the gates ahead of us.

We speed through them, no longer on a mission to land safely, but to save Zeke's life. The poor transfers are in the back, unaware of what's going to happen next, some of them possibly injured and scared.

Amar yells something from the back, but I can't hear him over the loud sound of fabric snapping in the wind.

"WHAT?" I yell back.

"The parachute is holding us back! We'll go faster without it!"

I have no idea how to release the parachute. I don't need to, though, because Tobias comes back to reality and presses another button. The snapping sound stops and I can feel the power behind the car as the_ Panther_ reaches one hundred and ten miles per hour. I can see a pile of blue and white in the side mirror, crumpled in the road behind us.

We're just a few minutes from the hospital now.

There's a group of people milling in the road, but when I honk the horn, they scatter. Some of them yell at us, but I don't care. What's most important right now is Zeke's life.

The tall brick building looms in front of us as I squeal around a corner. As quickly as I can, I park the car in front of the doors and hop out. Tobias and Amar carry Zeke through to the inside and I run around to the back of the car. Fifteen confused and terrified faces blink at me, the sudden sunlight blinding them momentarily.

"One of our guys needs emergency care," I explain. "Stay here unless you need medical treatment as well. If that's the case, then come with me. Those that are staying, listen to—" I look at the boy who was helping earlier.

"Justin," he says.

I nod. "Listen to Justin; he's in charge."

A few people climb out of the back; some have cuts and bruises on their arms and faces and one girl has an eye that's swollen shut.

Inside, it is freezing cold, a change from the weather outside. My socks are wet from the snow that melted on the trip home. A nurse approaches us and I motion to the small group behind me, suddenly too tired to even explain why we're here.

I don't see Zeke or the others, so they must already be with a doctor. I take a seat in the lobby, the rough leather scratching against my thighs. I clasp my hands together between my knees, rocking back and forth. What did I do to deserve this? I can't lose another friend, when I was so close to becoming happy again.

The time passes and still there's no news. The lobby is empty, the air dry.

I can't help but let my eyes close as the afternoon turns to evening, and still nobody comes.


	6. Chapter 6

**TOBIAS**

I SIT IN silence.

There's nothing but the steady beeps of the monitor and the occasional shuffling as someone passes by outside the door.

I can't lose him.

I can't tell Hana that I let both her sons die.

If I had only taken that gun the first time, I could have ended the fight a lot sooner.

Zeke's breathing is slow and shallow, but at least he's breathing again. When we brought him back, the staff immediately took him into a closed room for over four hours, before giving us any sort of update. Now he's asleep, hooked up to an IV. Wires run from his body to computers, which monitor his heart rate and vitals.

Amar sleeps in the chair next to me. I don't know where Christina is, but she's probably back with the transfers. My eyes are heavy.

Today was nothing like what I expected to happen.

Who were those men? And why were they waiting for us?

I sit there and think for an hour or so, replaying the events in my head, hoping to catch a clue I didn't notice before. The doctor comes in and tells me that they're going to keep Zeke overnight and we can come back to see him tomorrow. I want to stay by his side all night, but I know I need to get some sleep, so I wake Amar and we head out into the lobby. Christina is there, curled up in a chair, her hair unkempt from worry. I shake her shoulder and she opens her eyes groggily.

When she recognizes my face, she whispers hoarsely "Is he alright?"

"Yeah, for now. We're going to go home, though, and come back tomorrow."

She stands and follows us out of the building, to where the car still waits. The boy who helped Amar earlier is there, watching over the transfers. Most are asleep on the floor of the back of the vehicle, but some are still up and about, eating off of small plates or talking in low voices. One girl has an eye patch.

"I was wondering when you were going to come back. Most of the them are asleep, and I sent Annie and Arian to go find some dinner," the boy says.

"Thanks, Justin," replies Christina. "I'm really sorry this whole thing didn't go as planned…"

"Don't worry about it," reassures Justin. He smiles a little with the corner of mouth. "I've been through much worse. I'm sure we all have."

His gaze travels over the group and his smile fades. I used to believe that I've always had a rough life, with an abusive father and rebellious factions and brainwashed leaders running my city.

But at least I had parents, and a place to call home. These people have lived on the streets, with less food than the factionless. They've dealt with daily fights breaking out, nine times out of ten resulting in a fatality.

"I don't want to wake them, but if you're willing to, the sleeping quarters are only a few blocks from here…" suggests Christina.

"I think we'd all prefer that, right Annie?"

A girl, about the same age as Justin, walks over to us from where she is talking with a small group. Her figure is lean and her dark hair hides her face from the dim street lighting.

"Yes, it would be much preferred compared to out on the streets when we thought we were finally free from that."

She looks up and we make eyes contact. Her eyes pierce mine, sharp and deep green, like the orchard outside of the Amity headquarters. I feel frozen, like she is staring into my soul, and peeling apart my secrets, one by one, evaluating every part of me, every piece of who I am…

She suddenly breaks away and laughs at something Justin says, like the connection never happened, but I can't shake the sense that she doesn't like me. Something about her posture, as if it's too rigid for this atmosphere.

Like she's worried someone will figure _her_ secrets out.

Christina interrupts my train of thought. "Let's go, day-dreamer. It's time to get some sleep."

She leads the way to the car, which I'm starting to associate with very bad things, including the way she drives. Justin and Annie have gathered the rest of the transfers and climb into the back, shutting the door behind them.

"Where are we heading?" I ask as she drives away from the building.

"I think you'll recognize it," she answers.

It's only about five minutes before a tall building looms in the dark.

The old Dauntless compound.

She pulls around to the main entrance and opens the back doors. People pile out and Amar leads them to where they'll be staying for the night. The last person to exit has a mess of brown hair and their shoulders are sagged.

But I recognize the face all the same.

"Dammit Peter, I had hoped we'd lost you," says Christina heatedly.

I have to agree with her that it would be a better end to the day if he hadn't shown up, but he did save us after all.

"You're welcome," he says, before pushing past her and following Amar into the building.

"Why's he here, anyway?" asks Christina.

She walks beside me, her hands shoved into her pockets.

"I don't know, but everything that's happened today has been for a reason, I'm sure of it. Peter must be, too."

She shrugs, and I wonder if I'm wrong.

Maybe they were just a group of particularly edgy GD rebels. Maybe Peter was just at the right place at the right time. And maybe this is all just an overreaction and everything will clear up tomorrow.

Just maybe.

When I walk into the pit, I see Amar, Christina and Justin sitting on the benches and I join them. It's been a couple days since we came back from the fringe. Zeke is getting better each day, and he's eager to leave the hospital, but the doctor wants him to stay for a few more nights so he doesn't strain himself. I grab a slice of toast and begin to eat.

Justin is in the middle of a story.

"—far as I knew, he was the baker's son, but I found out the next day that he was actually the _banker's_ son, run away from home to try and live a life of freedom! Yeah, because I'm sure _everyone_ just wants to live like a poor man."

Christina snorts in agreement and I smile a little. It must be nice for Justin to have a place where he doesn't have to be on his guard all the time.

"Hey, Annie!" he says, waving in the direction of the main entrance.

Annie joins us, sitting in the empty space on my left.

"How are you this morning?" asks Justin.

"Quite wonderful, thank you. The beds were something of a beauty."

I can't imagine what is so excellent about the dingy bunks, but I guess they're better than cots or street sides. I notice Christina's face has suddenly lost its good-natured smile, and her lips are pursed in dissatisfaction. I don't know what tipped her mood, but then I see the flinty look she flashes in Annie's direction, and I know.

She's jealous.

Annie has a thin face and small nose, which are dappled with freckles. Her black hair contrasts with her green eyes, making them a prominent, yet striking feature. I can understand what Justin sees in her. Her mood has also improved, and when she looks at me, it is not cold and calculating like the night before. She has a warm smile and a sophisticated air that makes you want to stand a little bit straighter.

"How long have you two…" asks Amar, gesturing between Annie and Justin.

Annie raises her eyebrows "How long have we been—"

"Together?" finishes Justin. Both of them laugh. "Well, I'd say for as long as I can remember."

"We're not dating," clarifies Annie. "Justin's my twin brother."

I notice they both have the same striking green eyes and slight face. Next to me, Christina visibly relaxes, but her eyes suggest otherwise.

"So what did this place used to be?" asks Annie, looking around the large room. "An underground cave or something?"

"Believe it or not, this has always been the dining hall, along with an assortment of activities," I tell her.

"Ever heard of the factions?" Amar asks.

"Can't say that I have."

"Well basically this city that we live in was divided up into five groups called factions, who each had different values and purposes in the society. Amity harvested food outside the city limits, as well as provided us with counselors and caretakers. They valued peace. Abnegation made up the government and valued selflessness. Erudite were the teachers and researchers and they valued knowledge."

Christina smirks and mutters "A bit _too_ much, I'd say."

Amar ignores her. "Candor…what did the Candor do, Christina?"

"Besides having a smart mouth?" snickers a familiar voice behind me.

"Ugh, Peter, you're not invited."

Peter takes a seat anyway, to Justin's left.

"Oh, c'mon Christina, Peter's a cool guy," says Justin.

I think Christina is going to make herself sick, she gags so hard, but I can understand where Justin is coming from. He never knew the Peter that stabbed Edward's eye with a butter knife, or betrayed Dauntless, or tried to kill Tris…

"Why are you here, anyway? Not like, at this table, but in the city at all?" she asks.

"I, um, missed this life. I came back to see all my friends again. And I've received such a _warm welcome_." He looks pointedly at Christina, who sticks her tongue out at him. Maybe they're on the road to becoming civil. Peter probably doesn't even know why she despises him so much.

But I can't help thinking that Peter came for a different reason entirely. I catch his eye, and the look he gives me confirms my suspicion.

"_Anyways_," says Christina, "Candor provided the judges and upholders of the law. And we valued honesty."

"And finally, Dauntless." Amar gestures to the room around us. "The protectors of the city, valuing bravery."

"And perhaps a bit of recklessness," I add with a smile. Amar, Christina and Peter all nod in agreement.

"What happened to the factions?" prompts Annie.

Amar hesitates, unwilling to share that the downfall of the factions wasn't much better than living in the fringe. "We decided that it was better for everyone to live a life of freedom, instead of bound by faction customs."

She doesn't seem to suspect the whole truth and just shrugs her shoulders. Throughout breakfast, Justin tells us that he and Annie lived in small shack with just their mother, until they were eighteen. When she died of a sickness, they left that part of the fringe and moved to the nearest town, which was the closest thing they ever had to real civilization. That's when they heard the news from the local minister, Joseph, about transferring to the city to start a new life.

"He was very kind to us," adds Annie. "Not many were, and we were thankful for his aid. On stormy or cold nights, he would let us stay at the church because our residence wasn't…" she bites her lip. Her face his red and she lowers her eyes. She seems ashamed of her previous situation, so Justin jumps in, saving her from the uncomfortable stares.

"He told us to meet at the church on the day the city was supposed to come. That's when the men showed up."

Annie recovers her voice. "They asked us if we were the transfers and Joseph said yes. Then they said that if we tried to run away, they would…shoot us." The last words are just a whisper.

"One girl, Lucy, got nervous and tried to run, but she didn't make it half way to the door before they shot her. We don't know what happened to her; they took her away from us. They told us all to get up along the wall and stay put because they were…waiting for somebody."

"Who were they waiting for? Us?" asks Christina.

Justin nods. "I assume, anyway. When you arrived, they said something about 'that's the one', but I don't know which one of you they were talking about."

"Well, it must be Christina; she's the only one who regularly goes on these missions," suggests Amar.

"Unless they knew who would be coming this time. Their target could be any of us," retorts Christina.

"But _how _did they know?" I ask. "It's not like we were telling everybody in the city the four of us were going." I turn to Christina. "How many people knew about us?"

"Well, it's in the system, for records and stuff, but that's highly guarded. I'm not even sure _you_ could hack into it, Tobias. Plus there's been no notice of a security breach. And my boss knew. But that's it. What about you?"

"Johanna. And my mother."

"Only George knew about us," Amar puts in.

"Did they perhaps tell someone else?" she suggests.

"I mean, maybe. It wasn't exactly supposed to be a secret," I say.

"So either someone who knew is a traitor, or we've got some crazy psycho mind-reader on our hands," concludes Christina.

"Well, we're not going to figure it out just sitting here, so let's get something done," interrupts Peter.

"He's right," says Amar, "we need to ask if anyone told someone else about it. Then we'll work from there."

Everyone rises from the table. They all go back to their rooms to gather their belongings before riding with Christina to the apartments where they'll be staying. Peter hangs behind.

"How did you know we were in trouble?" I ask after a few moments.

"I didn't. I was in the town, on my way back to the city, and I heard a commotion from inside the church."

"What about the gun? Do you always carry one around?"

"Not usually. But I figured that if I was going to be walking through hostile territory for days, it would be a good idea."

We walk in silence back to the dormitories.

"Hey, Four, I didn't really leave the office because I wanted to see you guys…"

"I figured as much," I say. "What's the real reason?"

He hesitates, and then looks at me, his eyes dark and serious. "I came to warn you."

That's when the wall next to us explodes, the force sending both our bodies sliding across the floor. Peter hits the wall and lies still. I choke on the dust and debris filling the air. My head aches and everything seems to spin around me. I can't see much through the clouds of ash, but I can hear something from the direction of the explosion.

A dark figure walks toward me through the smoke and stops by my head.

"Yes, zis is ze one," a deep voice says.

And everything goes dark.


	7. Chapter 7

**PETER**

THE HALLWAYS ARE dim—the explosion shattered all the lights. I trip on my shoelace.

"Peter, stop being an idiot and save your friends."

Great, now I'm talking to myself.

I don't know where Four is, but there is a large empty spot in the dust where a body used to lay. I don't know which direction to head in, so I start with the collapsed wall. I step over the rubble and find the nearest door. The handle has been shattered, probably beat with the butt of a gun.

I push the door open and sunlight streams in. Tire tracks curve through the dirt outside the Dauntless compound, one set leading to the building and another leading away.

Wherever Four is, I can't help him now.

Shouting comes from further down the hallway. I can hear Christina yelling something. The pounding footsteps grow louder and five or six people round the corner, pulling up short.

"_What the hell happened_?" shouts Christina.

"I can only assume the men from the church. They blew up the wall." I pause. "And they took Four."

"Those filthy, low-life, nothings—" she rushes at the door, more than ready to chase after the van on foot, waving her arms in front of her like she needs to hit something.

I grab her shoulders and swing her around, wrapping my arm across her body. She struggles against me, yelling obscenities. She's strong, but I'm stronger.

"Christina, there's nothing you can do to help him. We don't even know where they took him, or _who_ for that matter."

She tries to bite my hand.

"Christina, listen! You're just going to waste precious time. It's more important to get some weapons, or at least a _car,_ before we go chasing down these mystery kidnappers."

"Peter's right," says Justin behind me. "We need to keep our heads clear if we're going to find him."

She stops fighting and I release her. She falls to her knees in the dirt. Justin walks over and places his hand on her shoulder. They sit like that for a while before I clear my throat to get their attention.

She rises and we all head inside, back to the dormitories. The three of us stand at the front of a room, filled with worried fringe transfers, policemen and other ex-Dauntless members, gathered here with the same questions. My gaze travels over the faces, some of them familiar. There's Amar, George, and Shauna. I see some newer faces as well, like Annie, Carmen, Arian and Tenley, who all came from the fringe.

Christina raises her hand for silence and the dull roar weakens to a few whispers.

"Only a few minutes ago, somebody decided to blow up the wall outside the Pit. We don't know why they came, but we think it was because they wanted to capture Tobias. And they succeeded."

The talking erupts again, some people angry, others fearful.

"Quiet! To efficiently address this event, we need to send out a search party. People who are good with guns and aren't afraid of what we might find."

Amar is the first to speak up.

"I'll go," he says. "Tobias is a good friend of mine. If we can't find him, I want to make sure that I've tried everything in my power."

"Us, too," says a younger boy, about seventeen. The tall guy next to him nods. I don't recognize either one, but George looks at them with approval, so I assume they're policemen.

"I'll go," I say.

If we find Tobias, I need to warn him about what I overheard. He's the only one I trust with the information. Christina's hostility keeps me from confiding in her and I don't know anyone else too well, even though I've been around them for a few years. And as nice as the fringe transfers are, I don't know their whole story or who they're loyal to.

"Great, and I'll be going, too," she concludes. "Everyone keep an eye out for suspicious behavior and let us know if you find something that could help. This meeting is dismissed."

She walks down the middle of the room to the two boys who I don't know. Amar joins them. Christina is in the middle of giving instructions when I walk up.

"—tomorrow at ten. Bring a gun and be prepared. I'll have a car ready so we'll follow the tracks as far as we can and then hope for the best. We don't know where or why they took Tobias, but we're going to find out." Christina leaves it at that, and joins a group with Justin, Tenley and Carmen.

"This is Oliver and Eli," says Amar, gesturing to the two boys in turn. Oliver has light brown hair with a blonde glint to it, almost slightly golden. The light reflects off of it whenever he turns his head. His eyes are brown and his face is dappled with freckles. Eli is the opposite. He's tall and broad, unlike Oliver's small body, with black hair. It spikes in the front and he's got a tattoo of a tiger over his left bicep. He must have been Dauntless before.

"Where are you guys from?" I ask.

Eli speaks first. "I came from Dauntless and didn't want to give up the life, so I joined up with the police force."

He seems almost hungry at the idea of holding a gun and I take a small step away, hoping he doesn't notice.

"I was in the factions, too," says Oliver. "But I came from Amity." That explains the freckles. "We were both born into Dauntless, but I transferred out because I had a feeling that nothing good could come of it. And it turns out I was right."

I can see a small sun tattooed on his ankle. It's like he was forced to be a part of the customs while he was here, but he rebelled in his own little way by putting a sun, a recognized symbol of Amity, on his body instead of flames or Dauntless-like tattoos.

Eli scowls at Oliver, disapproval pushing his eyebrows together.

"Maybe, but you could have been helping save the factions, brother, instead of peacefully watching from the outside, driven by nothing to help."

"I stood with the faction of my choosing. What about all the times you enforced the belief "faction before blood"? If you had transferred from Amity to Dauntless, would you not have stuck by their side? Think, Elijah. It's where I truly belonged."

"If you felt so comfortable among Amity, then why did you join the police?" I ask.

Oliver turns to me. "There were so few who volunteered in the beginning, I felt it was my responsibility, given that I already knew how to handle a weapon. But I will soon return to the farmlands since our numbers have grown, and I am no longer needed."

His eyes don't have the same shine as they did a few minutes ago, though, like he's upset at the idea of having to leave a place where he's made friends and has family.

"Well, I'd better go and get ready for tomorrow. See you guys then." He walks out of the room and Eli follows him.

Amar watches them until they disappear from sight, and then heaves a sigh.

"It's really too bad that he feels so strongly about leaving," he says. "Oliver is one of our best members: he's quick, calm-headed, and not to mention has nearly perfect aim."

I find it hard to believe that Oliver is as amazing as Amar makes him out to be, until I remember Tris and how she used her small body to her advantage. The memories are fuzzy, though, more like I've heard them then actually experienced them, and the effort makes me dizzy.

"Hey, Peter," says a high-pitched voice behind me.

It's Carmen. Her red hair curls in front of her eyes and over her pointed nose. Freckles adorn her face, just like Oliver, and her smile is unbelievably optimistic. She giggles for no apparent reason. Her sister, Tenley, whispers something in her ear. Both of them laugh.

"Hello, Carmen. Tenley."

They look at Amar. "Hi, what's your name?" Tenley asks. Her blue eyes are curious.

"Amar," he answers. "Are you guys from the fringe?"

"Yeah. We were members of the church and we performed on weekend nights," Tenley says.

"We were actors, singers and dancers," clarifies Carmen. "For as long as I can remember, Joseph let us practice in the church and when we became old enough, we performed plays and songs to help raise money. Eventually Joseph insisted that he didn't need the money to help the church, he just needed the beautiful life and hope that our music brought to the faces of its members."

"Joseph was like a grandfather to us…" Tenley says.

"I'm sorry," says Amar, "I hope you can find a life here as satisfying as the one you had."

"Oh, we didn't exactly enjoy our life…conditions were harsh, meeting somebody kind was a chance in a million. The few who actually came to the church were the ones we trusted and loved," recounts Carmen.

The sisters are quiet for a moment. Tenley garbs Carmen's hand and they sit for a while, buried deep in their memories. When Tenley speaks again, it's barely a whisper.

"Do you know why we performed at the church?"

I already know, but Amar shakes his head.

"Because people didn't really have anything to live for, especially those who were Joseph's age, and we wanted to give them _something_. So we gave them art; a little piece of what we knew to keep people on their feet until the next weekend when they would hear music again."

Carmen looks likes she is about to break down, so Tenley nods to Amar and I before leading her from the room and back to their dormitories. It's wonderful, what they did for the people back at the fringe.

Tenley was right: many of them feel like there is nothing to live for, that their lives are over. The sisters are both young. Tenley's long brown hair and bangs only emphasize her age, where her wide smile and sparkling eyes do not. Carmen is only seventeen, just a few years younger than Tenley.

Maybe the addition of these selfless transfers will help this city and all the ruthless people I know are hiding within it.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHRISTINA**

ZEKE'S FOREHEAD CREASES with worry when I tell him about Tobias' disappearance.

"We're taking a group to try and follow the tracks today," I tell him.

"Follow the tracks where? Out of the parking lot? Then where do you plan to go? They could have gone in any direction."

I know his anger isn't directed at me and that it's only his frustration at our lack of knowledge on this case.

"Zeke, trust me, I'm just as irritated as you are. If we can't find him, then we'll start asking people about the men from the church. Somebody has to know something. It's not everyday a man with that strong an accent comes around."

He still doesn't look convinced.

"Get some rest so the doctor won't change his mind about letting you go this afternoon. I'll let you know what we find when I get back."

He accepts my promise and relaxes back into his bed. I leave the room and join Amar, Peter, Oliver and Eli outside. We leave the hospital and head back to the Dauntless compound to follow the tracks. I forbade anyone from entering or exiting from that side of the building until we had a chance to start our search. When we get back, Amar jumps out to examine the tire tracks.

"They drove an off-road vehicle, four wheels, with zig-zag patterned tires with diamond markings down the center," he reports.

"Alright, everyone keep their eyes out." But I don't get my hopes up.

Zeke was right when he said the tracks wouldn't get us far. They are clear until the road, where the dirt leaves a mark for a couple hundred feet, and then fades out. I continue to drive, though, in the same direction we are already heading. The road leads north through the city and out through the set of gates.

I have a feeling that whoever kidnapped Tobias wasn't from Chicago or the fringe I know. They can only be from far on the edge, where it would not be easy to just travel to and from.

I suddenly remember that Peter worked in an office that was pretty far north. Perhaps he knows something that could help us.

"Hey Peter," I say tentatively.

He looks up at me.

"Did you happen to hear anything strange while you worked at the office?"

He doesn't answer for such a long time that I think perhaps he's forgotten I even said anything, when he gives a small nod.

"Well…" I prompt when he still doesn't speak.

"I think I overheard someone say that…" He says something after that, but all I hear is a mumble.

"Speak up," I tell him as gently as I can, with the suspense that he's putting me under.

"I think I overheard someone say that they're planning a rebellion."

I slam on the brakes unintentionally. Groans come from the back seat as bodies slam forward, momentum still carrying them after the sudden stop.

"What?" I say, shocked. I guess I was wrong to assume that our rebellious problems were over.

"I can't be sure," he says. His face is whiter than usual from all the attention he's getting. "I was delivering a file one day to my manager, whose office is on the other side of the building, and I heard talking in one of the rooms. Normally, I would just keep walking, but I recognized a voice from someone in my division who wouldn't be on that end of the building. I stopped outside the door and listened.

"They were whispering, so I only heard a little, but it sounded like they said 'have you gotten the sample from the system yet' and then 'Rogav will want to travel to the city tomorrow to see the translatable rebels for himself.' That's the last I heard. I hid around the corner when they walked out, so I don't know for sure if it was the girl from my division or not." He finishes his account and I turn the information over in my head.

"What do you think they meant by 'translatable rebels'?" Oliver asks.

"And who did they mean by 'Rogav'?" Amar questions.

"I don't know," Peter answers, "but it isn't right. None of it is."

"No, it isn't," I agree. We've been driving for a few hours now. "There's nothing more we can do to find Tobias until we know more about this 'rebellion'. Let's just say this 'Rogav' guy is the one who has Tobias. Until we find someone who has even heard of him, we aren't going to be any closer to the truth."

"When we get back, I'll ask George if he told anybody about our trip," suggests Amar.

"Good. Eli, can you and Oliver ask Johanna? Peter and I will find Evelyn and follow up with anyone she passed the information off to."

"I know George told us about your trip to the fringe. He was trying to convince us to volunteer for the next trip, but we didn't mention it to anybody else," Eli says. Oliver nods in agreement.

"Alright, I'll just double check that it stopped with you two," says Amar.

I turn the car around and we head back towards the city and hopefully towards an answer for at least one of the many questions swirling in my mind.

It's late afternoon when the Dauntless compound comes back into sight. Amar gets off so he can go talk to George, and then I head to the old courthouse at the Merciless Mart where I know Johanna will be. Once Oliver and Eli are dropped off, I turn to Peter.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask.

"You weren't exactly what I would call friendly," he says. "I didn't feel obligated to reward you with that information."

"_Really?_ You didn't think it was important enough that someone needed to know?"

He glares at me. "I was planning on telling Four, but someone had to blow up the wall and abduct him."

I snort with exasperation. "And what would Four have done? He would have told _me _and everyone else."

"And that would be because he trusted you. If he does trust you, that is. I didn't feel comfortable giving the information to anyone but Four, and if he felt like you were worthy of it, he would have shared it with you."

"_Worthy_," I scoff.

I know that I should be grateful that Peter handed over the information at all, but I can't help but wonder if Tobias would have told me, had he known.

Of course he would, we're best friends.

Right?

By the time we reach the fields, the sky is splashed with Amity red, orange and yellows. I drive to the spot where I last saw Evelyn: at the small buildings in the middle of the farm district. There's hardly anyone in sight now; they've all gone inside for the night. A few are still milling about, tying up corn stalks or stacking hay bales. I pull off of the dirt road and park by the front of the first building. I hop out, and Peter follows.

At first, nobody notices us, then a young boy around thirteen sees us standing awkwardly by ourselves, and heads in our direction. When he's within earshot, he asks "Can I help you with something?"

I step forward. "Yes, we're looking for Evelyn Johnson. Do you know where she is?"

He nods and turns around, skipping as he goes. We follow him down the winding path that curves in and out between the buildings, leading up to doors and then away again, under awnings and over bridges that jump small, gurgling creeks. His brown hair flops as he bounces, one foot hitting the ground after the other. At the second to last building, he takes the road to the front door and knocks.

A chilly wind blows my hair over my eyes and I gather my jacket up to cover my neck from the biting cold. The door creaks open and a small girl pokes her head out.

"Oh, hello Henry." Her eyes drift up to my face and she opens the door a little wider. She raises her eyebrows, but doesn't question our presence. "Come on in from the cold. I'll make some cocoa."

I step over the threshold and into the house. The little girl disappears around a corner. Peter shuts the door behind us and the light within the room darkens. Candles are scattered throughout the room, on tables, windowsills and in a chandelier. There's a whole line of them covering the mantel. As we walk further into the room, our shadows contort against the wall, dancing to a music that I can't hear.

Henry's gone off to find Evelyn, so I take a seat in one of the oversized armchairs. Peter stays standing, though. He looks uncomfortable, with his hands shoved deep into his pant pockets and his head bowed like he's being chastised by his mother.

The girl comes back in, two mugs in her hands. Cream floats on the top of the warm beverage and when I bring it up to drink, the white foam comes off on my lip. I lick it off, savoring the sweet flavor, and press my hands against the sides of the cup to warm them. Peter takes a sip of his drink, and then sets it down on the table.

After a moment, the girl speaks again. "My name Lanna," she says. She shifts her weight back onto her heels and then rolls forward until she's up on her toes. Her fingers twist through each other like a tangle of vines, and I get the sense that she's just as nervous as Peter about something. "Not many people come and visit our little establishment. It's nice to have some company."

She's afraid she'll scare us away. I try to ease her worry a little. "And we are happy to be here. We actually came to see Evelyn," I say in between sips. As if on cue, she comes around the corner, Henry tagging along behind her. Lanna looks a bit more relaxed now that we've accepted her hospitality and steps back so Evelyn has room to stand in the small space between the chairs and the fireplace. Henry runs out of the room. He comes back in a moment later carrying a wooden chair from the dining room table. Evelyn takes the seat he brings her and sits facing us.

"It is good to see you again, Christina. And Peter, I did not expect a visit from you. How have you been?"

His eyes find her and then immediately fall away. "Fine," he mutters.

"And how is Tobias? I haven't seen him for nearly a week."

Peter looks like she just slapped him in the face. I realize that I'm going to have to tell her about Tobias. It's not like I wasn't going to, but if there was a way to have avoided the subject…

I suck in a deep breath, and prepare to tell her. But the air won't leave my body; my tongue won't form the words. I sit there, with my lungs full and ready to burst, silent as our dancing shadows.

I can't do it.

"It's my fault," Peter bursts out.

I understand why he was a wreck earlier.

His words burst out of him like river finally free from the dam. "We were walking and all of a sudden this wall explodes and I hit my head. When I regained consciousness, Tobias was gone. If I had only been a little farther from the wall, or if I just came to a little sooner I could have saved him, I could have—"

"Peter," Evelyn interrupts, "it's not your fault."

Then she is silent. I watch her, alert for any signs of grief or anger. Her face is as plain as Abnegation.

And then her eyes darken, sucking all the light from the room.

"We think," I say hesitantly, "that he may have been kidnapped by someone with the name of 'Rogav'."

The candlelight reflects in her steely gaze and her lips turn down in a scowl.

"Viktor Rogav. Yes, I have heard of him." She pauses before continuing. "And when I find him, he will pay. Then no one will ever hear of him again."


	9. Chapter 9

**T****OBIAS**

THE DAYS ARE nonexistent. Time stands still without the patterns of the sun, or the task of daily activities monitoring your schedule of sleep.

It's been a while since I've had food—at least thirty-six hours. Only one person has even come to visit me since I was thrown in this cell, a rag over my eyes and my hands bound. I managed to wriggle the cloth off my face, but it didn't help much, given the lack of light. My hands are still tied, though, and I can feel where my wrists have swollen over the rope burns.

That one person was my waiter, who unceremoniously dumped a bucket with a little bit of bread and water. I had to eat the soggy bread straight from the container.

Who are these people that make me eat like an animal, locked in a world of darkness, uninformed on the reason for my confinement?

My eyes are puffy and heavy. My sleep is interrupted every time I doze off by the freezing cold draft that comes in through the keyhole.

Not to mention the screams.

Throughout the night, from somewhere down the corridors, come the cries. Short bursts, elicited by extreme pain. I assume the whimpers that ensue are too quiet to travel the distance from their cell to mine.

Their screams, however, are not.

I don't want to think about the torture they're receiving, and that I might be succumbed to the same fate. It's at a time like this that I wonder what my friends are doing, whether they're out looking for me, or if they've just accepted that some force of evil has arisen and there's no amount of heroism that could save me.

I can sense that someone is coming, so I fall onto my back and roll over, pretending to be asleep. Sure enough, a few seconds later the door opens and light floods in. I shut my eyes against the first light I've seen in days. Heavy footsteps shuffle towards me.

"Get up, you pathetic scum," says the figure.

I don't budge. That doesn't sit well with him, so he pulls his foot back and kicks me hard in the ribs. I'm so weak that I don't know how much of it I can withstand, so sit up.

"What makes you think I have to listen to you?" I say, glaring up at him, but keeping my chin down.

"Because you are genetically pure and I am damaged, so according to the rules, I _outrank_ you," he says slowly, like he's talking to a child. "Now get up!" Another kick in my stomach sends my sprawled across the floor.

Did he just say that I was genetically pure? Who is this guy? Obviously he isn't from the Bureau, or GD's wouldn't be above GP's. And what makes him think that I'm genetically pure? Last I checked I wasn't _actually_ divergent. His information must have come from an alternative source, most likely from the city where no one knew about the Bureau's tests on my DNA.

So that leaves the question of who in the city is a traitor?

He starts to walk towards me again, so I scramble to my feet as best I can with my hands behind my back. I sway a little and almost collapse, the room spinning around me. I lean against the wall, but the man grabs my arm roughly, dragging me behind him and out the door.

"Why do you care," I dare to ask, "whether I'm a GD or—"

"Shut up!" he yells. His hot breath against my face raises the hairs on my neck. He yanks on my arm, and I bite my tongue, holding back the urge to scream as the coarse rope reopens the wounds on my wrist.

I desperately want to ask where we're going, but I don't in fear that he'll treat me less kindly.

And it's not like he'd answer me anyway.

After about three hallways and two flights of stairs, we stop. The blood is still trickling down my fingers from beneath the rope. He opens a door, not different in any way from all the others that line this hallway, and shoves me into it. The only thing occupying it is a plain bed about five feet off the ground. The edges of the room are shrouded in darkness, leaving the bed in a circle of light. The door slams shut behind me and I am left alone. I walk cautiously over to the bed, alert for any traps or danger, but I find nothing. I hoist myself up onto the platform and lay down. The mattress is no more than a few sheets over a metal frame, but it is still more comfortable than the floor of my cell. I try to count the number of times the fluorescent light above me flickers, but I'm so tired.

_No, you must stay awake. They did not bring you here out of hospitality; they brought you here to harm you. You must be ready to fight…_

But my body wins over my brain and I begin to doze off. The clicking of the locks wakens me and I sit up, feeling mildly rejuvenated. The person that enters has a rough face marked by scars, bruised knuckles and a tattoo of a skull on his left thigh.

The man from the church.

"Hello, Tobias, how are you?" he asks, with the same lilt to his voice as before.

"How do you know my name?" I ask, not caring to update the man on my weakening condition.

He sits down on the bed and I move over so my legs hang off the side, ready for a quick escape.

Although I doubt I would get very far.

"I know many zings zat you can only dream of knowing," he says, with an unsettling smile on his face.

"Who are you?"

"Pardon me, I have forgotten my manners." He clears his throat. "Vy name is Viktor Rogav," He answers, bowing his head humbly.

"What do you want with me?" I ask. I can feel the blood boiling in my veins, heating my face until I'm sure all it's normal color has returned, plus some. Whoever this Viktor Rogav is will pay for everything he's done to my friends and my home.

"Now, now, zoo not rush zings. Ve vill get to zis all in good time. But now," he says, rising, "I vood like you to meet my friend. I zink zat you vill find his face familiar."

Viktor gestures to the door and a tall boy with dark blonde hair enters.

"Matthew?" I ask, incredulous.

"Hello, Tobias."

"What are you doing here?" He is the last person I would have expected to side with fringe rebels, especially after what happened at the Bureau.

"Well you see, I didn't agree with the Bureau and their biased view of the world." He strides confidently across the room, his hands clasped behind his back.

"I thought that maybe we could evolve to forget the idea, but when you erased the memories of all the Bureau members…" He takes a break from his pacing to look at me, and his eyes darken when they meet with mine.

"I had no other choice."

At each word, a new hatred for him grows, and my fingers curl slowly into fists of rage.

He resumes his pacing. "Not only did you take away my only chance at revenge, but there are still those out there who believe that GD's are inferior to GP's. I stand against that. So here it is the genetically damaged, and those who despise the egotistical air other GP's have developed, who are superior to all those that think being _pure_ makes them _perfect._" He spits the last words like they are a poison that has been sitting in his mouth for years and he can finally be free of it.

I am at a loss for words. Matthew, who stuck by us in all of our endeavors; working to gain equality and peace. Matthew, who was quiet and intelligent. Matthew, the only hope I had that not everyone outside of the city was a monster.

I guess I was wrong.

"Our interest in you, however, has nothing to do with your genetic purity."

Now I'm confused. Matthew knew of my damaged genes better than anybody else. So why is he hiding what I am?

He turns to look at Viktor, waiting for approval before continuing.

"Your purpose," says Viktor, stepping forward, "is to…_fulfill_ anozer's agreement. Vizout you, our mission vood be incomplete. Yet he only stated zat you need be delivered alive. He failed to mention in vat condition." Viktor flashes another smile at me, his blackened teeth and crooked nose sucking the last light of mercy from his eyes. With that, he whisks himself from the room like some highly esteemed figure of royalty and I'm left alone with Matthew.

For a moment, I think I see his eyes soften as they lock with mine, and then the guard enters, and the connection breaks.

"You will be given daily doses of Vinmater, a system used to train the prisoners to obey and understand," the guard rattles off, his words as bland as the walls. "Each day the level will increase, or until full cooperation is at hand. If you refuse to cooperate, extenuating matters will ensue, including, but not limited to, beating, isolation, starvation—"

"Thank you, Kaine," interrupts Matthew, with a bored look on his face. The guard falls silent and stands motionless against the wall.

Matthew crosses the room to a darker corner, and comes back with a device that I hadn't noticed before. It is waist high and on wheels, with a number of little levers, knobs and buttons.

"This is Vinmater, a special development of Viktor's She is a highly developed machine that can deliver any sort of torture from your basic electric shock to varying levels of confusion, selective pain, and effects such as the feeling that your bones are splitting inside you."

That sounds beyond pleasant.

"It's your first night, so we'll start off with something easy."

Easy is all relative, considering the man who developed this machine is coming off as nothing short of a cold-blooded psychopath. Matthew attaches a set of wires from the machine to the bed that I'm sitting on.

"Now if you'll just lay down for me."

"And what if I don't?" I retort.

The guard steps forward and pulls his coat back, revealing a gun hooked in his belt. At least I know that if the torture becomes too much to bear, I can just let the guard shoot me.

I'm hoping that I'll be able to escape before then.

I lay down and Matthew pulls out a little black box. Inside is a needle filled with a dark liquid. My guess is it's some sort of serum that makes me more susceptible to the torture.

He injects it into my neck and at first I don't feel anything. Not until I try to move my leg, do I realize what its purpose is.

It feels like there are a thousand bricks coursing through my veins instead of my blood. They anchor me to the table and no matter how hard I try to move, my body lies still.

I cannot run.

The serum either cut off the nerves from my brain to my muscles, or relaxed my body so much that it has no interest in moving, but either way it is effective. I can feel panic rising in my chest as I comprehend the utter loss of control, something I am so used to having.

Now Matthew doesn't have to worry about me escaping from the ties; I am immobile.

"How are you feeling?" he asks absentmindedly as he fiddles with the controls on the machine.

"Fairly grounded," I answer.

He chuckles and then turns to look at me.

"How about now?"

I barely have time to grit my teeth in preparation before the first shock comes. I can feel it through the table, ripping my breath from my body and turning it into a scream that pierces the cruel air.

But all I can do is lie there.

"You know what I like about this machine?" Matthew asks.

I groan.

"It has the ability to target different parts of the body. See—" I feel a sharp stab to my lower left thigh, "—it sends a signal to certain electrons within the serum and activates a chemical reaction that allows only selected parts to deploy."

He sends a pulse directly down my spine and a gruesome cry escapes my lips.

I lose track of the time, as I'm shocked again and again. My body is practically numb now, and I don't even scream anymore. Is this what is happening to the people who's screams fill the corridors every night?

Or is their fate worse than mine?

When the ability to move returns to my limbs, I know Matthew is finished. He allows me to sit up, although there is nothing I want more than to just lie there. I can move, but the pain is almost as bad as the torture itself. It's a mental battle between not wanting to inflict agony upon myself any longer, and the desperate need to be off of that table, out of the room, and out of this hellish place.

"We are finished with tonight's training. Tell me, Tobias: do you feel like you are willing to cooperate?" He holds a clipboard in front of him.

I slowly move my eyes upward and look at him steadily, preparing to say yes, not eager for another training session. But then I remember the evil that resides in this place and my distaste for such cruelty and malevolent crimes.

I don't want to be a part of that.

If they want me for their callous scheme, they're going to have to break me.

I spit at his feet instead of answering.

Matthew draws his hand back like he is preparing to slap me, but hesitates. In that moment I think I see his eyes convey a message of sympathy and his mouth twitches a little, before he turns sharply away and marches to the door.

Is there any chance that the Matthew I know is still in there, itching to come out and reason with the monster that I witnessed tonight? If there is, it might be my only hope. If I can only get him alone, without the guard or Viktor pressuring him into playing a pawn in their dangerous chess match, I might be able to get the reasonable Matthew to resurge.

He stops just before he leaves and speaks over his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow, then," and he is gone.

Back in my cell, I welcome the cold stone floor. My aching body sinks to the ground and I close my eyes, begging for sleep to overtake me. I lie awake for a few hours, staring into the darkness, waiting for the screams to decorate the silence.

Eventually I begin to drift off into an uneasy sleep, hearing nothing but the wind far away, whistling around the gutters.

The only screams in the building tonight were my own.


	10. Chapter 10

**Z****EKE**

"WHERE IS HE from, again?" I ask. The chair I'm sitting in is so deep and plush, compared to the hospital bed I was in yesterday, that I can't help but squish myself as far into it as possible. Christina gives me a disapproving look.

"This is serious!" she hisses quietly.

I stick my tongue out at her, but sit up a little while I listen to Evelyn's answer.

"The Rift," Evelyn answers patiently. I've asked her about ten times already, but I still don't know what she's talking about.

"Where is the Rift?"

"It's about two hours north of the farthest reaches of the fringe. No one really knows who resides there, except that they have something to hide. It's a dangerous place with high cliffs, on the edge of a dried up lake. There's no life and no water—only broken minds and lost hope."

"Sounds like the perfect place for who we're dealing with," adds Christina. "Is it difficult to find?"

"Not at all. Just drive until you reach the edge of the fringe and keep on going. Any sign of settlement is where the Rift begins. But I warn you, it's not somewhere you _want_ to be going to."

"But Tobias is out there!" Christina raises her voice, panic edging its way in when she realizes that rescuing Tobias might not be so easy.

"Trust me, Christina," Evelyn reassures her calmly, "I want to have Tobias back just as much as you do, but if we go gallivanting off into danger, we'll just end up in the same situation."

Christina crosses her arms and sits down, her face contorted by anger and frustration. Amar sits on the other side of the room. He hasn't spoken since they've come in.

"But we don't know anything else about this Viktor? Like why he's out to kill us all?"

"It's most likely revenge of some sort," says Amar, rising from his seat and walking over to us. His hands are shoved in his jacket pockets and he looks just as troubled as Christina.

Evelyn nods her head in agreement. "I have heard stories, during my time with the factionless." She pauses, remembering her old life long ago, before everything turned itself around. "No one knew much about him. He was a rumored criminal, capable of unfathomable destruction, ripped free of mercy, and burdened by a life of pain.

"He would choose a victim, each one for a certain purpose. He never killed for the fun of it; he only killed for revenge. They say his family was destroyed in the Purity War and he's determined to ruin everybody that had a part in it."

"So basically like a GD rebel on steroids," I say when Evelyn finishes her story.

"You could say that," she replies. "No one knows if he's actually a GD or not; he could have been Divergent. But he believes that the only way to settle the debt he owes to his family is to eliminate any who still believe GP's are superior to GD's."

"But Tobias doesn't think that," says Christina. "He's a GD himself!"

"I know, which is what makes me think that Viktor has him for another reason, and it's not going to be so easy to get him back."

We all sit in silence as this sinks in. I think Evelyn might be crying, but she has her head turned so no one will see the tears.

What did we ever do to be placed in this messed up excuse for a solution? Why do we have to be the pawns in someone else's experiment? We're just as much people as they are: we breathe the same air, have the same structure, feel the same emotions. Why should different genes make us any less important? I mean, all of our genes are different in some way, right? Or we'd all be exactly the same.

I'm so sick of these sad excuses for people and their lack of compassion. I can't stand to talk about them any longer, and get up to leave.

"I'll see you guys later," I say, and then walk from the room.

I take turns left and then right, not even sure of where I'm going. I'm so blinded that I fall into old habits and let my feet take me to where I want to go. The corridors become longer and I climb flights of stairs.

_This should all be over_, I think.

_We shut down the Bureau and reset their memories. How is it that _their_ karma keeps coming back to bite us?_

I stop walking when I reach a door. It's not different than any of the other doors on this hall, except for the number engraved in a small metal plate on the wall. The paint job is a little rusty and the handle sometimes gets stuck, but if you wiggle it, the lock will pop right open. This, time, though, I have no trouble and I walk right in.

On the left is the kitchen, with a table and four chairs, a tall one at the far end, which hasn't been used in a long time. On the right is the living room, small because it was hardly a necessity in the typical Dauntless family. There's a T.V. and a two-person couch.

On the floor beside the couch is a pair of shoes. They are small and worn, the laces knotted so tightly that it would be a miracle if someone managed to undo them. I approach them slowly, afraid that I might scare away the memories. I hold one in my hand and turn it over and over. The once silver stripes catch the sunlight filtering in through the window.

I follow the rays on the carpet until they climb the door to another room. I push against it gently, and the door moves, revealing a dim bedroom. Inside is a black bed with black sheets. Flames are sewn into the fabric, the red and yellows screaming at me from within the otherwise colorless room. Toy guns and plastic trains litter the shelves of a bookcase. There is only one book there. The spine reads "Dauntless Daredevils: Second Edition".

The shoe suddenly falls from my limp grasp and time slows down. I barely register the sound as it hits the wooden floor. The room blurs around me as my knees meet the floor and my hands struggle to block out the memories. I cover my ears, my hands shaking in anguish and grief. Tears begin to slip from my eyes as I squeeze them shut and my whole body begins to convulse from sobs.

It's all I can do to not run from this room and down the hall, looking for a young boy with a wide smile. Two years hasn't eased any of the pain that feeds off my losses.

Even though Tobias was involved in the plan, I know he didn't mean for anything bad to happen. I don't blame him, but I know there is more I could have said. Now he's missing and I might never see him again.

I feel as though the world is slipping away from me, all of my friends and family, everything I know and love.

Tris is dead. Tori, Marlene, Lynn, my father.

Uriah.

I let out a scream that I'm sure everyone in the building could hear. It feels as though there is nothing left in me. All I want to do is curl up and forget everything that is happening. I want to forget who I am and who I was.

I want to give myself the memory serum.

But I immediately push away the thought. I have promised myself that I'm not going to do that. The friends that are still here—Christina, Amar, George, my mother, Shauna—they need me. I would only inflict upon them what I am feeling now and that in itself would be a worse punishment than having to live with the pain of my losses.

I feel a cold hand on my shoulder and look up. My mother is standing there, her eyes glazed as she stares into the room. Her small frame makes her appear weak and her face is darker, like the burdens that she carries have aged her years before her time.

Neither of us speaks, but I know she is remembering him just like I am. She still lives here, even after we moved out to be in the dormitories with the rest of out initiate classes. I don't visit often because I know I will only be reminded of my past.

I can't imagine how she begins to live through each day with two bedrooms emptied, one of them forever. I bring my hand up and place it on hers. She wraps her small fingers over my hand as much as she can and squeezes. My mother is not an emotional person so when she bends down and puts her other arm over my shoulder, crying silently into my chest, I know that it is the pain she has been holding in all these years.

I hold her tight against me.

"I promise," I say softly, "that I will do everything I can to come back to you at the end of the day. Nothing can take us away from each other."

She nods her head and pulls back, staring into my eyes.

"You better," she says.

I wipe her tears with my free hand and we both stand. I lead her to the kitchen and she takes a seat while I find something to eat from the fridge.

"What led you here?" she asks after awhile.

I pause in my searching. "I couldn't handle the fact that we are the recipients of the aftermath for this huge mess the Bureau caused. I went for a walk and this is where I ended up."

I hesitate.

"I think…I think it was because this is where it all started and if I came back here I could just grow up all over again, bathed in the innocence of childhood before the truth came out. We were all so much happier back then."

I turn back to rummaging again.

"But it is better this way," she says.

I stop and turn around, staring at her incredulously.

"Better?"

She nods.

I can feel my heart begin to race as I comprehend exactly what that would mean.

"You think that we're better off without Uriah?" My voice is rising. "Without Tori and Marlene and Tris and everyone else who died in this unnecessary battle? What about all of Abnegation?" I'm practically screaming now. "Did _they_ deserve to die, _too_?"

She keeps a calm stare as she processes everything I'm saying.

"None of us _deserve_ to die," she answers when I've finished.

I scoff, thinking of Eric and Jeanine and all the others who were involved in these horrible schemes.

"But lives must always be given to cure the ill in the world." She shifts her gaze to watch out the window. Five stories down, people drive their cars across the city, the train chugging away in the distance.

"We can wish for our loved ones to be safe, but if they are, then someone else must die in their place. Someone's going to experience loss, Ezekiel, and Uriah was just a part of that circle. Because their lives were taken, we can live in peace now."

"But we don't live in peace!" I yell, gesturing with my arm to the world outside. "Don't you see? People are still being hurt, they're still dying!" She says nothing, but continues to stare out the window and my echoing shouts fade into silence.

I immediately regret screaming at her and I take a seat at the table beside her. My thoughts are like mush in my head and I can't seem to gather them in one place, so I just sigh and drop my head into my hands. I begin to think that's she's mad at me for attacking her like that, my emotions getting the better of me, and then she speaks.

"But I still have you." Her hands grasp mine and pull them away from my face. She's looking at me now, but she doesn't seem angry; she just smiles at me sadly. A single tear slides over her cheek.

I close my eyes and allow a small smile, not completely reassured that my breathing body is a gift. Any day of the week I would give my life in return for Uriah's.

But right now, I know that I must be thankful for what I have, and focus all my energy on fighting to keep what we have.


	11. Chapter 11

**C****HRISTINA**

I UNDERSTAND WHY Zeke left; he was a good friend of Tobias'.

_Is_ a good friend.

Tobias is still alive, I'm sure of it. I'm not going to let some big tough guy from the middle of nowhere get away with kidnapping my friend. Amar looks like he is going to follow after Zeke, but then decides against it.

"I'm going to head to the control room, see if I can find anything that might help us with defeating Viktor." He leaves the room and I'm left alone with Evelyn.

She's almost stopped crying now, swiping her fingertips beneath her eyes to remove any tear stains. I suddenly remember something I'd been meaning to ask her.

"Hey, Evelyn," I ask. She looks up at me, and even though her eyes are red, she's beginning to regain her composure.

"Do you remember if you happened to tell anybody about our trip to the fringe?"

"Tobias told me he was going with you three to act as a political figure and I was so proud of him. I told Abraham Stellos—I was bragging, honestly." She smiles at little. "And we talked about how much he'd grown and how he was going to make a fine leader one day…" she fades off and stares at the wall, engrossed in her memories, but I've stopped listening.

_Abraham Stellos._

There's that name again.

He's a good man, you know," says Evelyn, coming back to reality. She sounds a little defensive, but I can understand. It must seem like I'm accusing Abraham of treachery. "I think he might be the answer. He always makes me feel happy and important. Not like…"

I know whom she means, but she can't say his name.

"Anyway, he's gone now, and Abraham has moved into my life. And he most certainly did not betray anyone."

Her black hair wraps around her jaw and casts a shadow on her face. Her dark eyes bore into me as they glare meaningfully, and I shudder. I'd hate to ever cross Evelyn's dark side.

"But I told only him, no one else."

"Thank you, Evelyn. I don't think that he betrayed anybody, but if someone else knew, there's no telling if _they_ let something slip or not."

"I'm heading back to the farming district now if you'd like to some and ask him yourself."

I consider the idea. It's probably best, seeing as it can only help when it comes to finding Tobias.

"I'll let someone know where we're going so they don't worry, and meet you at the west entrance."

She nods and then leaves the room and I head down the opposite corridor, looking for Zeke or Amar.

If Abraham didn't tell anyone, then that makes everything easier. It limits our possible suspects to Oliver, Eli, Evelyn, Johanna, George and Abraham. Of course, if Abraham did tell somebody, then it means anybody could have betrayed us. It doesn't completely rule out the primary suspects, but there's a bigger chance that someone not as close to Tobias gave away his location.

But I can't forget the four of us who took the trip. I didn't tell anybody and neither did Marie, as far as I know. Tobias wouldn't throw himself into danger unless he's been on their side all along and this is just a trap.

But he wouldn't waste the past three years of his life convincing us otherwise. That leaves Amar and Zeke, who I would never convict of such a crime in my life, but I can't rule them out completely.

It could be anybody, really.

We can't seem to get any closer to finding out about Viktor and this mystery spy than we were the day those men ambushed us at the church. I scowl at the ground and shake my head to clear my thoughts. I'd begun walking faster without even realizing it. I turn a corner and collide with Justin.

I fall to the floor and he stumbles a little, catching himself on the wall.

"Are you okay?" he asks, offering me his hand. A small smile plays at the edge of his lips.

"Yeah, I'm really sorry," I say. I can feel the blood rush to my cheeks and I don't meet his green eyes.

"No, it's my fault. I wasn't looking where I was going." I take his hand and stand up. I hastily brush the dirt from my jeans and regain my composure.

"Hey, would you mind telling Amar or Zeke that Evelyn and I are going to the farm district? We'll be back by tomorrow morning, but I didn't want anyone to worry."

"Sure can," he says.

"Right. Thanks." I don't know what else to say, so I turn swiftly and begin to walk in the direction that I came.

_Way to be so smooth, that you fell down, _I think to myself.

I can't deny that Justin's messy brown hair and green eyes are sort of attractive, not to mention his kind-heartedness, even after everything he's been through.

_But I can't do that to Will. _

I know it's been nearly three years, but I feel like he died believing I still liked him. Which I did.

But I can't stay hung up on Will forever. He would want me to move on and be happy, even if that meant dating other people.

I turn around, and nearly run into Justin a second time. He grabs my shoulders to prevent our collision.

"Hey, sorry, my fault again," he says, grinning.

I laugh.

"Do you mind if I…walk you to wherever you're going?" he asks.

"Not at all," I say, flashing a flirtatious smile at him over my shoulder.

He bows nobly and gestures with his arms for me to lead the way. "My lady," he says.

I smile and start walking towards the east entrance. Since Chicago was reestablished, the content of the history lessons at the school have changed. Instead of including the factions and all their severity, they date back to some of the earliest generations of humans. I've read up on some of the things that they didn't teach us. One of my favorites is the medieval times, where chivalrous knights displayed acts of kindness and people fought on horses with giant swords.

It's a little odd to read for pleasure instead of being forced, but I kind of enjoy it. I have the freedom to read about what I am interested in and there's no ridicule that accompanies it. I don't know how Justin knew, though; maybe he likes to read as well. Or perhaps he's just a natural.

I smile at the thought and turn to look at him. He's a bit taller than I am, so I have to look up.

"So, why're you going to the farm district?" he asks.

"To talk to Abraham Stellos about our trip to the fringe. Evelyn said she told him, and I want to make sure it stopped there. Otherwise we could have a real mess on our hands." He nods.

"Who's Evelyn?" he asks.

"She's Tobias' mother. She used to be a political leader, but now she works in the farm district."

He pauses for a moment.

"I could come with you, if you'd like. If Abraham did let someone know, then you could have an endless line of possible suspects and you're going to need help interviewing them all."

"Thank you," I say. "It would be wonderful if you joined us."

"Great, let me just go tell Annie or Arian where we're going."

He runs off down the hall and then reappears about five minutes later, completely out of breath.

"Maybe a workout is in your future?" I joke.

"Are you kidding?" he says in between gasps. "That was my workout for the month." I laugh and he gives me a good-natured shove.

We begin to walk towards the east entrance.

"So let's say that hypothetically, the story stopped with Abraham," Justin says. "That would leave the possible suspects as him, Evelyn, the four of you who went, and who else?"

"George, Oliver, Eli, Johanna, and my boss, Marie."

"But you don't think any of them gave you all away, do you?" he says quietly.

"Would you be able to convict your own friends?" I ask, looking him in the eyes. They convey understanding and sorrow. I forget to breathe for a moment and then he looks away.

We've reached the east entrance. Evelyn is there waiting for us and we all head out to the car.

"Justin is going to come with us," I say. Evelyn nods and climbs into the driver's seat. It's a quiet trip to the farms. We're all thinking about Abraham's answer. If he kept it secret, that means someone we know betrayed us. But if he told others, then there is a very small chance that we'll ever uncover the spy.

I'm not sure which one I'd rather be faced with.

We pull onto the little side road where I saw Abraham the first time. Evelyn knocks on one of the doors to the small houses and it opens. A tall, well-built man with a mop of sandy brown hair stands in the doorway. His eyes are deep brown and they scan us with a level of curiosity before landing on Evelyn. They soften and she smiles.

"Abraham," she says, "this is Christina and Justin. If you don't mind, they have a question to ask you."

"Yeah, yeah, absolutely!" he says enthusiastically. "Come on in!" The inside is much like the one where we met Evelyn, with no artificial lighting. Candles illuminate the room and oversized furniture rests in front of a burning fireplace. Autumn is nearly here and the cold has come earlier than usual.

"What can I do for you?" asks Abraham after we've all taken a seat. I'm distracted for a moment by a delicious smell coming from the kitchen, but I snap back when Abraham speaks.

"Yes. Evelyn informed us that she mentioned to you about our trip to the fringe."

"Ah, yes! Tobias is really coming along on this whole politician route. She tells me about when he used to be one of the best fighters in Dauntless. What a change!" He laughs at the thought, and Evelyn joins in, her high voice mixing with his deep one.

"Do you happen to remember if you told anybody about that?" I ask.

"I do believe I may have mentioned it at a meeting. I was promoting a new idea about recruiting for the farms and suggested sending a representative to talk to the fringe transfers, just as Tobias was going to represent the government."

My stomach feels like it's in my feet.

"How many people were at this meeting, exactly?" Justin asks when I don't speak.

All I can do is stare at the floor in dismay, dreading the answer.

"Well, it was a meeting for the head staff of the Farming Corporation, so about twenty."

I gasp.

"Twenty?" says Justin, incredulous.

"Yeah. Why do you all look so depressed by that?" Abraham asks, confusion in his tone.

Evelyn finally speaks.

"Tobias has…disappeared," she says with some difficulty. "We believe that whoever took him are the same people that ambushed them at the church."

I glance up and for a moment, I think I see a look of panic in Abraham's eyes. But when I blink, it is gone, replaced by sadness and more confusion.

"They were ambushed at the church? Tobias is _missing_?"

We told Evelyn everything when we saw her the other night, but it is obvious she had not yet relayed the information to Abraham.

"A group of men lay in wait for them when they went to pick up the fringe transfers. They managed to escape, but a few days later, somebody planted a bomb at the old Dauntless compound, broke in and kidnaped Tobias. One of our own overheard something about a 'Rogav' who was planning to come to the city in search of the 'translatable rebels'. We believe that Viktor Rogav is the one behind this," she finishes.

Abraham is silent as he lets the new information sink in.

"We were hoping to find out who may have given away our position to Viktor, but with twenty new possibilities…"

"I see," says Abraham. "I truly am sorry. I would not have spoken had I known." His previously cheerful mood has disappeared, replaced by sadness and frustration. There's a long silence before anybody speaks again. The flames crackle as they burn through the wax and it sounds like my life, falling apart around me, burning slowly to the ground.

"Would any of you care for some potato casserole? Maybe that will help take our minds off this painful subject for a moment," Abraham suggests.

Evelyn and I nod absentmindedly.

"I'll go set up some plates and then bring them in."

He stands and Justin jumps up from his chair.

"I'll help you," he adds hastily. Abraham smiles at him and they both head into the kitchen.

I'm deep in thought, as is Evelyn, when there's a loud bang from the kitchen. I leap up and run to the doorway, Evelyn on my heels. The scene before me is the last thing I expected to see.

Justin has Abraham pinned up against the cabinets, his hand wrapped in Abraham's shirt collar. In his other hand is a knife, pressed threateningly against Abraham's neck.

"You slimy, pathetic TRAITOR!" yells Justin. His face is red and his eyes have turned from a gentle sea green to a raging storm. I've never seen him lose his temper.

Abraham is sweating, his eyes bright with panic.

"Tell them what you did!" spits Justin, hatred forming each of his words.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Abraham yells frantically. "Please!" He tries to take Justin's hand away from his throat, but Justin just shoves the knife harder into his neck, leaving a red mark.

"Justin!" I yell desperately, trying to get his attention.

He turns, rage contorting his face.

"He betrayed you, Christina! He's the one you're looking for!" I shake my head back and forth. There's no way that Abraham is the traitor.

"Why do you say that?" I ask.

He pauses, unsure of his answer.

"I just know," he says, knowing it won't be enough to convince me.

"Let him go, Justin." He looks reluctant, but throws a nasty look at Abraham before releasing him. His hands go immediately to his neck and he backs away from Justin. Evelyn breaks free form her trance and surges forward, catching Abraham in an embrace. She leads him from the room, but all I can do is stare at Justin.

"Why would you do that?" I ask faintly.

He looks at me anxiously. "Christina, please, I can explain. Back at home, I could—"

Something snaps inside of me. "But you aren't there anymore, Justin! This is your home now and you can't just go off and start accusing people of being a traitor!"

I can feel myself about to cry. What got into him? Why did he hold Abraham under a knife and accuse him of such a crime without real proof?

"Christina, just listen. Back at the fringe, I was known for being able to tell things about people by 'reading' them. I could look at their eyes and their body movements and tell if they were lying, or keeping a secret, or feeling uncomfortable. And Christina…" He's closed the distance between us and he brings his hand up to my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye. "He was all three."

I can't fathom the idea of somebody reading another person's body language like that. Does that mean he knows that I like him? Can he tell I'm still grieving over my loss of Tris and Will?

I want to believe him, but the knowledge that Evelyn trusts Abraham enough to love him, holds me back.

"I'm sorry, Justin, but I don't believe you." I force the words out, and quickly turn my back on him. The tears begin to fall and I can feel his desperate stares on my back as I rush out of the room.


	12. Chapter 12

**T****OBIAS**

I WAKE TO the sound of footsteps outside of my cell. I try and shift so that I'm facing the door and I land on my wrist. I groan out loud and bring my wrists to my stomach. The cuts have closed, but they are nowhere near healed. The surrounding skin is raw and soft, subject to easy damage.

The footsteps stop and the locks begin to turn. When the door opens, a flood of light pours in, and I bring my arm up to shield my eyes. The last time I saw light was during my torture session the other evening—the third since I've been here.

They've been kind enough to keep the binds off my wrists, but they haven't broken me yet. I assume my visitor is my guard, coming to take me to another training session. It's been at least two days since the last one, so they must be planning something special.

But when I take down my arm, I see someone who I'd never thought I'd see again. I had hoped that the past two and half years would have been unkind to him, leaving him a starving mess fending for his life miles away from the city.

But here he stands, strong and healthy, staring down at me like the disappointment I always was to him.

I don't even have the words to speak.

"Such a pleasure to see you again, my son."

I resist the urge to wrap my hands around his pathetic throat, more or less because I know I can't win.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Ah, that's a very good question," he says, folding his hands in front of him like some pretentious politician. "You are here because I asked for you."

"Why the hell would you ever want to see me again," I spit.

"Because I despise you so very much," says Marcus with an air of pride.

"Oh, that makes sense."

"You see," he says, pacing across the room, "I am a very important person here. What I say goes, so when I said I needed you, they made sure I was not ignored."

_Marcus was the reason I was kidnapped? He was the one who called the ambush at the church?_

He steps closer to me and I scoot back across the floor.

"You look so thin, Tobias, are you feeling all right?"

"Just fine," I growl at him.

"I see my friends have introduced you to Vinmater." I flinch at the name. "Has she treated you well?"

"What's with all the questions, Marcus? What do you really want me for?" I retort.

"Let's not be hasty," he says, smiling. "You will know all in good time."

I snort in exasperation.

He leans down, his face just inches from mine. "It was nice to see you, Tobias," he whispers. His breath is rancid, like something died inside of him.

It was probably his soul.

He leaves the room without another word and closes the door behind him. His visit has put me more on edge than the torture sessions.

Why would he ask for me? Was it just to torture me? Because he's already done that, and if that's all he asked for, then why didn't he tell just tell me?

I take a deep breath and look down at my hands to see that they are shaking. I'm not scared of him—I've let go of my past—but I'm afraid that Marcus will find a way to use me that will end up hurting the ones I love.

I jolt awake. The darkness swallows everything, but I can hear someone quietly turning the locks on my door. I sit up and squint into the gloom, waiting. My cell door creaks open and someone slips quickly inside before shutting the door quietly behind them.

They light a small lantern and hold it up to their face. Matthew's face becomes chiseled from the blackness.

I assume that he's here to take me to my torture session.

"So great to see you," I spit. It may as well have been Viktor himself who came to escort me.

"You'll thank me later," he whispers.

"Oh no, I'll thank you now!" I say with mock enthusiasm. "Thank you, Matthew, for inflicting agonizing pain on me day and night. There is nothing more I could ever wish for—"

"Shut up, Tobias!" he hisses.

I pause.

That's the first time that he's used my real name.

"I'll explain everything on the way," he says, "but right now, I need you to stay quiet and follow me."

"And why should I trust you?" I say. I'm not eager to take any orders that come from Matthew, but I lower my voice anyway.

"Because I'm your friend," he says simply.

I snort in exasperation.

He says nothing more and walks to the door, looking both ways. He then sprints from the entryway and down the hall and I'm left to scramble after him.

I still don't know if I should trust him, but if he can lead me out of this building, then I might be able to take him on alone.

Of course, in this pathetic state, I doubt that I could take down a pillow.

My legs are unsteady and I have to lean against the doorframe before running after him. I reach the stairwell that he's disappeared down just as a door at the other end of the hallway begins to open. I look back and see that my cell is wide open. As soon as the guard notices, he'll set off the alarms. My only hope is that the exit isn't too far away and we can escape before they go into lockdown.

I take one step down the stairs and fall. It's all I can do to grab ahold of the railing, even though my wrists are throbbing. I bite back a scream and struggle to my feet again, dragging myself one step at a time down the stairs. At the bottom, I see Matthew waiting anxiously, checking his watch again and again.

"We have approximately forty-five seconds until that guard pulls the alarm and this place goes on lockdown. After that, we're as good as dead."

He opens the door to another hallway.

"There's a stairwell at the other end of this corridor. On the landing, there's a fire escape, which will get us to the north side of the building. Once we're there, we have to stay close to the building, in the blind spot of the cameras. At the south side, there's a twenty-foot wall and a barbed fence. We'll have to go out the main entrance, which will be difficult considering there are always ten guards on duty. I have a grenade that I snatched from the weapons room." At that he pulls back his jacket to reveal a small device with a ring at the top. "We'll use that to cause a distraction. However, we still haven't gotten to the hardest part.

"Outside of those walls is a mile high canyon wall. This building is located at the bottom of a dried up lake, so the canyon provides a natural barrier to prevent escapees. There's no easy way around it, so we'll have to scale the side and hope we aren't spotted."

He speaks so fast that I can barely follow along.

More stairs, blind spots, ten guards, explosions and huge canyon walls—that's about all I got.

"We have thirty seconds now. Time to go," Matthew says and we start our sprint down the hallway. I trip again and again over my own feet, but manage to regain balance each time and we finally reach the stairwell. I take the stairs two at a time and reach the landing with ten seconds left. There's a window with a red latch, which Matthew pulls. A cold wind blows through the open window and I shiver, thinking of having to bear this weather the entire way back home, wherever that is. I peer outside and look down. The ground is a dizzying fifteen stories below us.

I pull my head back inside and lean against the wall. I can feel my breath coming in short bursts and I know I'm going to have to calm myself down if I want to get out of here alive. Matthew sticks one foot through the open window, and then the other, motioning for me to follow. I think of Tris and how she would have climbed out the window without a moment's hesitation; how she would be proud of me for overcoming my fear, and letting go of the notion that the fear is mine and not just a conception someone else led me to believe.

That's when the alarms sound. I take a deep breath and practically jump out the window onto the fire escape. Matthew's already two flights down and I run to catch up with him. The metal frame shakes beneath my feet, but at least it's sturdier than the Ferris Wheel. As soon as my feet hit the ground, I sprint around the east side of the building, but what I see stops me in my tracks. Just as Matthew said, ten guards stand at attention throughout the front courtyard.

"This place is like a prison," I hiss under my breath.

"It basically is, except for the fact that it's considerably less humane."

We crouch there behind the edge of the wall, watching the movements of the guards. The alarms still wail through the windows of the building, echoing off the canyon walls. Two men stand a few feet in front of the double gate, which is reinforced with barbed wire and an electric fence. Another six are stationed at equal intervals throughout the yard, their backs facing inward so their eyes can spot any movement from escapees. The last two are next to the front door, as if someone would be stupid enough to try and escape through it. I'm surprised that the guard closest to us hasn't seen our faces peering around the corner.

I pull my head back behind the wall. "What's your plan?" I ask Matthew.

"I'll toss the grenade into the middle of the courtyard and cause a diversion. It'll buy us enough time to make it to the gates, but we'll still have to get past the guards." He hands me a small, silver object. "How good are you with a knife?"

I stare at it numbly, remembering the time that I threw the knives at Tris in order to protect her from Eric and the other Dauntless leaders.

"Fairly decent," I say.

"Good. On my mark, run for the gate and take out the guards and I'll meet you there."

I nod and he takes the grenade from his belt.

"One."

I play with the dagger, twirling it anxiously between my fingers.

"Two," he whispers with more intensity.

I shift my weight between my feet, preparing to make a run for it.

"Three!" Matthew pulls the ring and tosses the grenade towards the center of the courtyard. Time slows down as I push off with my right leg and tear across the grass. The guard closest to us turns at the sound of Matthew's voice and begins to pull his gun, but Matthew is faster and lands a solid punch to his lower jaw, sending his head twisting back over his shoulder. The grenade detonates and I'm thrown sideways, landing hard on my side in the dirt.

Time returns to normal and there's smoke filling the air and six guards running wildly about in the center of the lawn, some firing blindly into the air. I can't set eyes on Matthew—the grass has caught fire and it's beginning to spread. I'm so focused on trying to find him that a stray bullet grazes my arm and I cry out.

_I've got to keep my head if we're going to get out of here._

I press my free hand against the wound to stop the bleeding and scramble to my feet. When I reach the first guard, he has his back turned, watching the fire, and I easily stick the knife into his back. He falls limply to the ground, but the second guard has turned and draws his gun. I don't waste any time in throwing the knife at his right shoulder. I feel the handle as it slips from my fingers and spins through the air, hitting its mark exactly. He drops the gun and I lurch forward, catching the back of his knee with a sweep of my foot. His legs crumple beneath him and I jab my hand into his throat. He chokes silently and I leave him there, pulling my knife free and running for the gate. Matthew's standing there, unscathed except for a small scratch above his eye. He's rapidly punching in codes on the keypad.

"Dammit! On lock down, all gates become unbreachable." He glances up at the top of the fence, a thoughtful look spreading over his face.

I realize what he's thinking. "Oh no. We're not going to climb over it, are we?"

"We might have to."

I'm breathing hard from the battle and the thickening air. I'm not sure if I would able to climb over the barbed fence, plus trying to avoid electrocution.

"I can probably disable the circuit boards long enough for the electric signals to reboot. But we'll have to move quickly." His face is alight with the prospect of danger. He begins to fiddle with a gray box on the wall. A door pops open to reveal a tangle of wires—red, blue, yellow, green and black. He studies the wires a moment before searching through them.

I stare at him incredulously. "Do you enjoy this kind of thing?"

"Adrenaline is the best medicine." He looks at me, breathless with anticipation. "Don't you?"

"Once upon a time. But my Dauntless days are over."

Matthew laughs a little too enthusiastically.

"Alright, are you ready?" He pinches a red wire and a black wire between his fingers, a knife in the other hand.

I walk up to the fence and stare up at it, clenching my fists.

"Ready."

"Here goes nothing," he says and cuts the two wires. A large spark shoots from the box and Matthew cries out, jumping back from the control panel. The fence visibly shudders and it gets noticeably quieter as the electrical impulses buzzing through the wires cease. Matthew throws himself at the fence and begins to climb, placing one foot in front of the other. I hesitate.

"Tobias, we don't have time to waste!" he yells down at me.

I take a deep breath and put one foot in a crevice between the twisted wires. My wrists are sore and the wound on my arm is still bleeding. My head spins from dehydration and exhaustion.

"Next time, I'm staying in the cell, instead of facing all these heights," I mutter breathlessly.

I'm halfway up the fence when something clinks against the metal right next to my hand. I pause for a moment to look behind me. The ground is alight with the flames from Matthew's grenade and the guards have regrouped, aiming their guns at our defenseless bodies.

Another bullet barely misses my midsection.

Three of the guards lay dead, one of them burned in the explosion. The second man I took down at the gate has recovered and is firing rapidly at Matthew. The mounting wind has begun to carry the smoke towards us and I start to choke on the thick air. One of the guards lands a shot to my left thigh and my foot slips off the fence.

I cling onto the rusted metal and drag my leg back up, gritting my teeth. It takes all my will power to move it as I begin to climb again. I scream in pain as I'm forced to put pressure on it, fire racing through my veins and up my body.

I make it to the top of the fence, my hands shaking and ash coating my skin. I wrap my hands in my sleeves and balance precariously on the fence between the barbs.

Matthew is there as well.

"Why haven't you started down the other side yet?" I yell at him over the sound of the roaring flames and the ceaseless gunfire.

"I'm caught. On the barbed wire."

I can barely hear him; his voice sounds deflated, like he's given up. He struggles weakly against the sharp edges that tether him to the fence by his pant leg.

"Here, let me cut you free." I pull the knife he gave me from my pocket and begin to slice at the fabric, but it's a thick, battle-ready material, and the blade barely makes a tear.

"It's no use, Tobias!" Matthew says. "Leave me! Listen, there's a small path leading up the canyon just past that gorse patch." He points in the direction of the cliff, where I see a small cluster of bushes.

"Take it up about halfway up and hide in the cave overnight. You'll find a few provisions to keep you going. Once you reach the top of the wall, head straight south until you reach a village and find a man by the name of Arthur Dayburn. He'll help you get home."

I shake my head violently. Matthew may have been less than friendly the past few days, but he's giving his life for me now, and I can't just forget that.

"No, we're getting you free!"

"Agh!" he cries out. A bullet has found it's way into his right hand. I'm surprised we haven't been riddled with holes yet, but the fence is unnaturally thick, and the level space between the two fences makes it difficult to aim accurately.

"Go, now! The fence will reset soon and you still have to get down the other side."

He's right. If neither of us makes it out, there'll be no one to avenge the other and no one to put a stop to Viktor's tortuous habits.

"At least promise me you'll try and cut yourself free," I say, handing him the knife. He nods and I start down the other side.

A guard has started up the fence by the time I reach the ground, and I know Matthew's chances are dwindling fast. The gunfire has stopped, but he's in no state for hand-to-hand combat.

The wound in my leg is still burning and the graze from earlier stings like hell. I rip a piece of fabric from the hem of my shirt and wrap it tightly over the wound to stop the bleeding. When I look back up at Matthew, he's managed to cut himself free and is starting to head down the other side, but there's something else, too.

I can hear a faint buzzing coming from the bottom of the fence, getting more powerful by the second.

"Matthew! You have to jump! The electric fence is starting up again!"

He turns so that he's jumping away from the fence and tenses, ready to push off, but the guard has reached him and grabs his shirt collar. Matthew swings his fist around, but the guard catches it and twists, breaking his wrist. Matthew screams, clutching it to his chest. The only thing keeping him on the fence now is the guard's iron grip. The humming gets louder and I step back a few paces, ready for the shock. A loud zap sounds and then the buzzing softens to a low whine. Both men fall twenty feet to the ground, unconscious.

"Matthew!" I surge forward, taking him by his good arm and hoisting him onto my shoulder. I know I have to get him as far away as possible, but he's like a dead weight, dragging me down after already having to deal with the bullet wound in my leg. The guard still lies in a heap at the base of the fence. I can't be sure if he's even alive.

In fact, I don't even know if Matthew's alive. I set him down and sigh heavily when the weight's taken off my shoulder. I don't see any movement that would signify breathing, so I lean down and press my ear to his chest, listening for any sound of a heartbeat. Between the crackling flames, screaming guards, resumed gunfire, and wailing alarms, I can barely hear my own ragged breaths, but eventually I make out a faint pulse.

He opens his eyes and looks at me, then back at the fire that's starting to consume the building.

"Are you alright?" I ask hastily.

"I'll manage," he grunts, straining to stand up.

"Let me help," I say, reaching for his arm.

"Thanks."

There's a moment of silence before he speaks again. "Viktor has a tunnel that leads from here to his main facility. The fire won't kill him, or any of his followers, but it will take them a few days to reach it. They'll be set back on their plans, which gives us enough time to reach the city and get a team together.

"I know where the building is, so we can have a look at what he's really up to. I've never actually been there, so I don't know everything that Viktor's planning," he looks at me desperately, "I just know that's it's big."

"First thing's first, we need to get out of here. Viktor may not be after us, but that fire's not slowing down and it's going to be nightfall soon," I say. The sun is already beginning to dip below the horizon.

"You're right," says Matthew. "We need to get to that cave."

He looks up at the canyon wall and we both groan. Matthew's hand is swollen and still bleeding, as is my leg; the make-do bandage is soaked through. My arm stings and my wrists are throbbing. The cuts have reopened and they're inflamed from the previous battle. As we begin the trek to the cliff, my legs start to feel unsteady beneath me. I reach for Matthew, who's already weak from the electric shock he received and having fallen twenty feet, to steady myself. It's surprising that he didn't break any bones, but he's limping badly.

I hesitate before I place a hand on his shoulder because I don't want to injure him more, but the sky starts to spin around me and my legs crumple, so I don't have any choice. I miss and nearly fall to the ground, but Matthew grabs my arm at the last moment, bringing it around his shoulder.

"You are in bad shape, dude," he says.

I just stare at him.

"We need to get you to food and water and rest. Do you think you can make it up that path?"

"Of course. I'm not incapable," I say a little too harshly. I remove my arm and take a few steps forward, before I stumble. Matthew comes to my aid again.

"I just might need a little help," I grumble. Matthew laughs and the two of us slowly limp towards the gorse patch. By the time we've reached it, the sun has set completely and there are only a few fingers of light stretching into the sky.

The path is small—about two feet wide—and covered in small rocks and crevices. It's a fairly steep climb, but I take a deep breath and power forward. Adrenaline pumps through me, but I know it won't last. I can feel my legs weakening with every step.

At last we reach the cave Matthew mentioned, which is about six feet high. I can hardly see my hand in front of my face. He disappears into the blackness and I follow hesitantly.

"Matthew?" I say. The ebony swallows my words whole.

Something moves in front of me, and light suddenly glows from the shadows. Matthew sets a lantern down on the floor and turns to a backpack lying in a crack in the wall. The cave is about fifteen feet deep and ten feet wide. I take a seat about halfway in and lean against the wall. My legs are numb and it's all I can do not to fall asleep right now.

"I've got a few snacks and some water," Matthew says. "We'll have to go without a fire. There's still a chance that someone could come after us, and we don't want to alert them with the smoke. This lantern won't be seen outside of this cave. Good news, though," he picks the backpack up and joins me, "there are a few thermal blankets to keep us warm."

I can feel a cold draft blowing in through the cave, coming off the canyon side. I shiver and Matthew hands me a grey blanket. I wrap myself up in it hastily and take a granola bar that he's laid out.

"So I think that you owe me an explanation," I say, looking at Matthew meaningfully.

He raises his eyebrows and then sighs. He looks out of the cave mouth at the bright orange flames in the distance. They've burned the building and are starting to die out for lack of sustenance to feed off of.

After a few minutes, he speaks. "I was a spy."

"For who?" I ask warily.

"The Bureau, of course. They didn't send me there—I went on my own. But I was always on your side.

"I heard about Viktor where I was working at the Bureau. Someone told a story and I became intrigued, so I did a little bit of research, and maybe some hacking, and I found out that he had a compound and quite the developing organization out here. I knew that he couldn't be up to anything good, so I decided to check it out for myself.

"I couldn't, however, risk telling anyone else of my plans because they might try to stop me, or be put in danger. So I came out here by myself about a month ago. At first Viktor was unwelcoming. They thought I was some unlucky wanderer who had fallen into their hands, so they had a little bit of fun by torturing me. They didn't believe me when I said that I had heard about the legendary Viktor Rogav and wanted to join him on his mission for revenge.

"I gave them a pretty convincing story about my family being wronged in the Purity War and my relentlessness, even through the torture, eventually convinced them. Viktor, who had the same thing happen to him, took me on as his personal apprentice. It was the last thing I was expecting, but I took the opportunity and went along with it. I didn't learn much, though. He kept all his secrets between himself and the other two leaders. Yet he trusted me with a good many things, and in a few weeks, we were going to go to the main facility and complete the plan, but that's when you came along.

"They brought you in one night, unconscious, and threw you in a cell. Viktor called me to a meeting to explain your arrival. He asked if I knew you, and I said you had been an old acquaintance of mine. He granted me the privilege of torturing you myself. I did not find it pleasing in any way, but I knew it would be better than letting somebody else take care of it. Later that evening, I overheard someone talking with Marcus. He said that you were there because of him, and how your public execution would be in two week's time, which would have been tomorrow. Tobias, Marcus was going to air your death live so everyone back home could see it."

I stare at him numbly, slowly processing everything that he's implying.

_Marcus did intend to hurt the ones I love, by using me as his weapon._

Red streaks cloud my vision, but I take a few deep breaths to try and calm myself down. My body still aches, but I'm wide awake now.

My wounds are still searing, and I start to unwrap the bandage from my leg. There's an unpleasant mixture of dirt and blood plastered to my skin.

"Here," Matthew says. "Rub some of this on it and wrap it again."

He hands me a clear salve and some fresh gauze. The ointment stings almost more than the injury itself, but then it fades into a cool tingling sensation. I breathe a sigh through my gritted teeth.

"Better?"

"Much," I say. I wrap the fabric over the wound a few times and take care of my wrists and the graze on my arm. When I'm done, I hand the supplies to Matthew.

"That medicine won't fix your broken wrist, but I think I can help."

Matthew gingerly offers me his hand and I carefully wrap the gauze so he won't be able to bend his wrist.

"As long as you don't go around punching people, you should be fine until we can get you to a real doctor."

"Thanks," he says.

I sit back against the wall and think back on the last week and half, although it was impossible for me to tell one day from the next. The holes where the bullet sits is the only thing that still hurts significantly and I can only hope the one in my leg, and the one in Matthew's right hand, won't become infected before we get home.

"Do you remember, that first torture session," I cringe at the memory, "where you were testing my compliance? What if I had given in and done what you asked? Would I have been granted a better level of treatment?"

"Of course not," answers Matthew. "Viktor never intended to let you know his real purpose for you. He wanted to lead you to believe you had a chance so you wouldn't give up and just die on him, but Viktor never really intended to give you anything more than your public execution."

I nod. It makes sense—someone as ruthless as Viktor would never let his victims off the hook. I'm thankful now that I held on until Matthew rescued me.

I'm fizzing with a hundred questions, but I try to arrange them in my head before I ask them.

"Why did you treat me so harshly? You could have at least told me you were on my side," I say accusingly.

He shakes his head. "It's the same situation where you would have been put in danger for knowing. Viktor had to believe that you were my enemy, and nothing less. He's very observant; any sign that you trusted me would jeopardize the entire plan."

"Fair enough," I say grudgingly. "But what was with the whole GP act? I'm not genetically pure, and you know that."

He looks at me knowingly. "Yes, I know better than anyone. But if Viktor thought that you were genetically damaged, there would have been no reason to torture you; he would have simply let you be killed. You see, to Viktor, everything is about revenge. If it doesn't directly benefit his plan, it's not worth his time. But your 'genetic purity' aggravated him enough to buy you an extra week and a half before your death. And if you weren't tortured, I never would have been able to rescue you. My ability to access your cell without question was the key to this entire escape. "

"What about you? Why didn't he kill you?"

"They nearly did. But Viktor believed my story enough to give me a chance. They never knew I was a GP. It would have been my one way ticket to death row."

He sighs and stares out into the darkness, where it has begun to rain. The pattering echoes off the canyon walls and drowns the last of the flames. I bring the blanket a little closer as the wind whistles through the cave.

"I truly am sorry," he says. I look at him, perplexed.

"I know."

"I could have done more to get you out. I tried to warn you, to let you know, but I was too selfish and worried for my own good—"

"Matthew," I say, but he just continues.

"If I had only thought my plan through, we could all have been much safer, neither of us would have had these injuries, we wouldn't be sitting here in a damp cave, having just fought for our lives—"

"Matthew," I say, louder this time. He pauses and looks up, his eyes pooling with worry.

"You did what you had to," I say softly. "Your decisions saved my life, and probably countless others, as soon as we get back home. You sacrificed finding out about Viktor's secret plan just to help me. If that's not heroism, I don't know what is."

He smiles faintly, but the moment quickly dissipates. "I'm sure he wouldn't have told me the plan anyways. Never in million years would Viktor trust someone else with his plans."

Something clicks inside of my mind. "Who are the other leaders?"

"Marcus and someone else. He never mentioned a name, but I've also never seen him with my own eyes, so he's either at another compound, or back at the city."

"The traitor…" I whisper to myself.

"What?" asks Matthew.

"The traitor," I say louder so he can hear. "Someone told Marcus that I was making the trip to the fringe. And it had to be someone in the city, because no one else knew. We have to get back and warn the others; they could be in serious danger." I can feel my heart racing.

"Hey, it's not likely that they're going to just launch an attack. No one knows we've escaped, so I'm sure whoever it is will just continue to live undercover until Viktor gets the word out. We have at least three days, but right now, we need to rest so we'll be ready for the journey to the town tomorrow."

He's right—my body aches more than ever. I barely manage to move into a sleeping position before my eyelids start to droop. Matthew puts out the light and all I can see are the hundreds of stars dappling the night sky.

We never had anything like it back in Chicago, but out here—especially now that there's no compound—you can see the stars clearly. I fall asleep thinking about everyone back home and how nice of a change it is to finally have something beautiful to look at.


	13. Chapter 13

**P****ETER**

THE PIT IS filled with old Dauntless and fringe transfers alike. People crowd onto the benches, babbling on about one thing or another. It's been two weeks since Four went missing, and there still haven't been any new leads. I take a seat next to Justin who's by himself at a table in the corner of the room.

"She still won't talk to you?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "I was so stupid to accuse him like that, especially without any real proof."

"But it was with good intention," I say.

He ignores me and continues to poke at the food on his plate. He hasn't even taken a bite of his breakfast.

"Listen, I was thinking that if I went asking around, I might be able to come up with some new clues that could lead us to Four. Christina's never really been on my side either, for some reason, so do you want to come with me?"

Justin looks up, and then back down at his plate.

"Sure. I'll meet you at the car in a half hour." Then he leaves, his food still uneaten.

Justin stands by the car, a small piece of paper clasped in his hand.

"What's that?" I ask, pointing to his hand.

"It's a list," he says, "of all the people I think we should talk to."

He seems to be in a better mood than at breakfast.

"We already interviewed the twenty-two people who were at the meeting when Abraham mentioned Tobias' trip, and some did relay the information to others. However, by that point, the trip was less then twenty-four hours away, so the time it would take to spread the word and form an ambush was too long for one of them to be the traitor. I also have a few people that we haven't talked to yet who I think may know a thing or two."

We climb into the car and I look at him. "Where to first?"

"The farming district," he says. He fills me in as we drive. "There's a man who came from the fringe a few months ago. His sister was at the meeting and he heard about the trip from her. No one really knows what he did before he came here, or even what part of the fringe he was from, so there's a chance he was associated with Viktor.

"Suspect number two: a woman who was also at the meeting, who seems to have a grudge against Evelyn. She was a fancy of Abraham's before Evelyn, so we might be dealing with a case of jealousy, perhaps taken a bit too far."

"I thought you said that it would have been impossible for anyone who found out through Abraham to have spread the information in time?"

"Improbable, but not impossible. I narrowed it down to these two who had the highest potential."

The small buildings that signify the farm district come into view, and I pull over, off the dirt road.

"The first person is in building 2A."

The basic wooden door is slightly ajar, even though autumn has come early this year. I knock gently, but no one answers.

"Hello?" Justin calls out.

"Do you think we should see if they're home?" I ask when still nobody answers.

"I guess."

The door creaks as I push it open, making me feel like I'm in some horror scene, an innocent victim walking into a trap. I have to remind myself that the possibility is actually true because we're here to find a traitor capable of giving someone up to a vicious killer.

Just like the last time I was here with Christina and Evelyn, there isn't a single light bulb in the room. Comfy furniture crowds the foyer and candles watch us from every shelf. Their wax is cold and the wicks are half burnt. Without that light, the room is incredibly dim, and I bang my toe on the corner of the couch. I cry out, but Justin quickly shushes me.

"Did you hear that?" he says.

"What, my foot being sacrificed to the damn chair leg?" I ask sarcastically.

"No, that thud."

"Yeah, my foot—" I start to say again, but he puts his finger up for me to stop. This time I think I hear footsteps on the soft wood, and I peek around the wall into the main entrance.

"The door's closed!" I hiss in Justin's direction.

"That must have been the noise I heard," he muses. "Probably just the wind." He straightens out of his crouch and raises his voice a little, but I turn back around, alert for any movement besides our own.

Suddenly, a high-pitched scream sounds behind me and I whirl around, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. A little boy stands there with a bewildered look upon his face, while Justin stares at him in complete terror. He quickly relaxes though, and laughs nervously.

"Was that you?" I ask, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

"If you'd been in my position…" he says defensively, glaring at me.

I can't help but laugh. My stomach hurts by the time I'm done and I have to sit down. When I wipe the tears from my eyes, I realize that I recognize the boy who startled Justin.

"You were there when I came to visit Evelyn. Harold, right?"

"Henry," he says.

There's a moment of silence before I speak again. "We're looking for a Mr.…" I look up at Justin, searching for the name of our suspect.

"Landon Rogers?" someone says, although Justin's mouth doesn't move.

A tall man stands in the doorway, blocking out any light from the front windows and throwing us into darkness.

"Yes, are you him?" Justin asks nervously.

"Yes," he answers. "May I ask what you are doing in my home?" his voice is deep and slow, and he takes a step towards us.

Justin takes a step back in response, but trips over a coffee table and falls hard to the floor.

"We're, um," I swallow hard. "We were just wondering if we might ask you a few questions?"

"About?" He's definitely a man of few words.

"Something you heard from your sister." I leave out the part about Four's disappearance, because if he did betray Four, then he'll be less likely to talk if he knows our true reason for being here.

He grunts. I don't know if that means yes or no, but he takes a seat and stares at me expectantly.

"Oh, um," I look at Justin hastily who scrambles up and sits on the couch.

"Do you remember hearing about a group of people traveling to the fringe on a mission to pick up transfers?" Justin asks.

"No."

"Oh, well, do you remember your sister saying anything to you about the meeting she had a few weeks ago?"

"What makes you think I pay attention to anything that old hag says?"

I raise my eyebrows and exchange a glance with Justin. That was not something I expected to hear. Landon turns to Henry, who I'd almost forgotten, and says gruffly, "Don't repeat that to your mother."

Henry must be his nephew.

I'm not sure where to take the interview next so I ask, "Where did you come from in the fringe exactly?" He may not have heard what his sister said, or maybe he did, we'll never know, but it's worth a shot to know whether he's a potential threat or not.

He scratches his beard and frowns, glaring at us with his small black eyes. "The northern edge, two hours south of the Rift."

My heartbeat quickens. Not many people know of the Rift.

"And what was your occupation?" I ask.

"Why are you asking me all these questions?" he asks roughly. "Are you from the police force? I didn't do anything illegal!"

I squish myself far into the chair. I can't imagine what Landon did that makes him nervous so about the police, but I don't care to find out.

"No, no, we're not from the police," Justin says quickly. "We're just trying to find out more about our friend's disappearance."

We have nothing to lose telling the truth now.

"I think I've told you enough. How about you get out of my house."

The tone of his voice suggests a threat and I notice for the first time just how wide his knuckles are. He has the words 'Guns are for kittens' inscribed across his fingers, and I can't decide if it's amusing or mortally terrifying.

"Yes, that sounds wonderful. Thank you for your time. Peter?" Justin looks at me, then heads toward the door.

He doesn't have to tell me twice. I rise and begin to leave, then stop and turn, giving an awkward bow. The stony look on Landon's face freezes my stomach and I hurry after Justin. When we're safely out in the open, with plenty of witnesses, I take my first deep breath since we got here.

"I'm just glad he let us out at all. If he's our guy, then he could have easily murdered us right then and there."

"Who's to say that he's not? I'm more worried that he _didn't_ hurt us."

"Tell that to my aching toe," I mutter.

"We don't know if he's planning some sort of revenge. He knows we're on to him, so now he's going to send out his assassins and we'll be taken from our beds in the middle of the night, never to be seen again!" Justin looks at me with a mischievous smile, and I shove his arm.

"Your stories aren't going to scare me," I say, but I'm uneasy. "C'mon, let's get away from this house."

He looks at me and smiles, pretending to be terrified, but I ignore him.

"Where to next?" I ask.

"Oh, you're no fun," he pouts, poking me in the shoulder.

I slap his hand away and roll my eyes.

"House 4E," he answers, pointing to a cluster of buildings on our right. "Are you sure you want to keep going?"

"It can only get better after that," I say, but still I'm nervous. Maybe we don't need to keep going. Landon was a fairly perfect fit, coming from the northern edge, and using the Rift as a landmark, but I have a feeling it wasn't him.

Building 4E is the last of the housing edition—beyond it is a wide field of rustling corn stalks. Bits of old furniture, chair legs and chestnut drawers, crabgrass pushing its way through the cracks in the rotting wood, lie in the lawn surrounding the house. It's more of a shack really, since the abandoned furnishings are nearly in better shape then the foundation. The entire building sinks into the ground, the baseboards caving beneath the weight. This establishment hasn't been here more then a year, so I can only assume there's some sort of infestation.

"This is the one?" I ask Justin.

"Yep…"

We pick our way across the littered walkway and I knock on the door. It creaks open, but I don't walk in, like last time. After a few seconds, a woman appears at the door, her hair pulled together in a loose bun and a bathrobe draped over her shoulders. She may have been pretty once, but now her eyes are dull and her shoulders sag under the weight of whatever burden she carries.

"What can I do for you?" she asks in a rough, tired voice.

"We'd like to ask you few questions concerning a story relayed at a the Corporation meeting a few weeks ago.

"If you're trying to sell me something, I don't want it," she grumbles, reaching to shut the door.

"Wait!" Justin says, shoving his foot between the doorframe and the door. "We're not trying to sell you anything; a friend of ours went missing and we're hoping to uncover any clues that'll lead us to him. All we need is for you to tell us what you remember about the city going to pick up fringe transfers. The story that Abraham Stellos told."

It's a risky move, mentioning Abraham, but the woman immediately perks up.

"Abe?" she whispers, opening the door a bit wider. She stares at something I can't see and a smile spreads across her face. "Yes, yes, come in!" she says, suddenly enthusiastic.

"Um, thank you," Justin says.

Her quick change of mood is unnerving, so we'll have to be on our guard lest her bitter coma overtakes her in the middle of teatime.

"Would you care for a biscuit? Some coffee perhaps, or cake? I have a lovely cake that's just come from the oven—lemon chocolate…" Her voice fades out as she flutters to the kitchen, her youthful energy magically restored.

I exchange glances with Justin. Why did the mention of Abraham turn her from a cactus to a daisy? His eyes reflect my confusion as she comes back in, a yellow cake with brown swirls balanced upon a platter in her hands.

"Ms. Foller…" Justin says tentatively. "What do you remember of the city sending representatives to the fringe for transfers?"

"Ah, yes, transfers. Ha! Such a nice opportunity don't you think? Like sunshine, oh! I must show you something. Come, come!" She scurries from the room and Justin sighs.

"I'm not sure we're going to get anything out of her."

"In here! Come and see!" a voice says from somewhere down the hall. As we travel farther into the house, the rooms become darker, but when I pull back the curtain leading to her voice, sunlight covers every inch from floor to ceiling. I blink away the white dots clouding my vision and focus on dozens of palettes and easels crowding the room. Each one has a face painted on it, all with the same features—a wide nose, chiseled jaw line, brown eyes and sandy brown hair.

"Why," I hiss to Justin under my breath, "are there thirty portraits of Abraham illuminated in a golden light?" But Justin says nothing, instead staring at the paintings in disbelief, his mouth hanging slightly open. Ms. Foller stands at the window of the room, which stretches six feet from the floor, clutching a picture to her chest.

"Peter, look," Justin whispers, pointing at the corner of a pastel version of Abraham. Inscribed there is a signature reading 'Emily Foller Stellos'.

"She was desperate lover," I say, finally understanding. "Or is."

"She's a loon, is what she is," says Justin. "She's got pictures of her ex-boyfriend hidden in a room in her house, like some secret shrine." He looks slightly disturbed.

"Aren't they beautiful?" Emily asks. "It's like he's still here."

She sighs, her eyes twinkling with memories. But her smile slowly fades and her short flame of reminiscence has burnt out, leaving her as cold as the candles in Landon's house. She turns, her bewildered eyes falling on us, hardening into the stony chips they were before.

"He doesn't love me, does he?" Neither of us says a word. Her face contorts from sad to angry and she suddenly screams, so loudly that I have to resist the urge to cover my ears. It's blood chilling, a mixture of bitter angst and emotional devastation. Her knees meet the floor, and the picture falls from her grasp. Sobs fill the room, and Justin and I slowly leave the room. I hate to leave her alone, surrounded by the source of her anguish, but her rollercoaster mood swings are too unpredictable to be safe. Besides, the only thing we were getting out of her was depressing he-loves-me-not stories.

The light is fading and my feet are sore from the day's adventures. Not a singe person made out to be suitable suspect, every name scribbled through disappointedly.

"It's so grim," I say.

"Of course it is, but we can't give up," says Justin reassuringly. He claps me on the shoulder and I smile half-heartedly. "Things have become dark and depressing. Success is a small chance, if any, and evil has found it's way into our lives, defeating us at the very center of what we thought we knew best. Each time we come close, the answer slips away yet again."

All I can do is stare at him.

"But you know what? We can't let that stop us. We can't let some snobby little tyrant from the North push us around. We _will_ get to the bottom of it and we _will _uncover every secret and everybody's dogs' secrets, until we have Tobias back, and have rid ourselves of that halfwit snake forever. Okay?"

I shake my head. "Promise me you'll never become a counselor, okay?" I ask.

He laughs. "I can't make any promises, but I'll try my best."

We continue down the road, the setting sun highlighting the windows and transforming the city into a brilliant flame.

We will burn like the city in our search for Tobias, until the day when the dark consumes us and all hope has truly gone.


End file.
